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Navigation Center
About what and who I write for
Masterlists
Accounts:
twitter - @vanillanattyice & @libbysdead
wattpad - @LovaticFan925
ao3 - https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wankyyyy
my letterboxd
my music
I can't go on without you
part 1 ; part 2 ; part 3
summary : after almost a year as windfall, it is time for her first event with bombsight, neither of them planned that it would go all wrong.
pairing : fem! self ship x bombsight (robbie)
warnings : angst, mentions of death, character almost dying, vought being assholes again, but happy ending.
Chicago, 1953
The military exhibition was just pure marketing even if Vought sold this as a patriotic act. As if they were paying respects to the lives lost during the war.
There were American flags stretched across every building while marching bands could be heard from afar.
Thousands of civilians were crowded against barricades. They were fighting to be in front and get the best spot to see America's heroes in flesh.
To bombsight, it was the perfect recipe for disaster. The crowds were already going crazy and he doubted that using powers near them was really a bright idea but once again, Vought gave him no choice.
“You’re scowlin’ again.”
Chiara's voice was what pulled him from his thoughts as he glanced sideways toward her. She was standing beside him near the center of the exhibition platform that overlooked the city square.
For the moment, they were still hidden by the curtains, giving them the freedom to act however they wanted before having to perform for the crowd.
Wind was tugging at the golden cape, while her blonde hair was curled perfectly and her makeup made her look like the picture perfect Hollywood star.
She looked beautiful tonight. She always did but today, Vought outdid themselves for her first real interaction with the crowd.
But it only made his stomach twist with dread because beneath that make-up and smile, she looked exhausted. Sometimes, it even looked like she was going to pass out.
Most people couldn't tell but he could. He noticed how pale she had become those last few weeks and the powder barely concealed it. Her smile also looked strained and whenever she used her powers, he noticed how her hands started shaking.
Vought were the only ones who also noticed but they didn't care.
“You alright?” He asked quietly even though he doubted she would be honest about it.
She still had a hard time opening up about her more negative feelings, always afraid of it burdening the person she would confess to. He knew it came mostly from her upbringing but now that they were together, he hoped that it would change with time.
He was proven right when she smiled at him.
“I am,” she replied even if both knew that it was a lie. But he did not have the opportunity to push further when one of Voughts's handlers approached them.
“Places. We're live in thirty seconds.”
His jaw tightened at this. Of course it was live, Vought had to make everything into a spectacle.
He couldn't even pay attention to the orchestra swelling or the announcers introducing them, he was too focused on the way her fingers brushed briefly against his hand.
It was as if searching for grounding before being forced apart for the cameras. His hand instinctively closed around hers for half a second before the handler had enough and forced her to move away.
Everything felt heavier today. As if the atmosphere itself knew something was going to go wrong.
Even his jacket felt heavier, but that was for another reason. A vial of V1 was hidden in his pocket, he stole it as soon as Chiara confessed to him that her powers were killing her.
He never planned on stealing it until that day. But it all changed with her because he knew that he would do anything to keep her safe.
When the announcer's voice boomed again at the same time the curtains were drawn open.
“Begin launch simulation,” one of Vought employees said behind them.
And they just needed to look up to see the artificial missiles being activated along a suspended cable system. Vought really did go all out for this event.
At first, everything went perfectly as he easily intercepted the first missile while Chiara redirected another with more controlled currents of air.
And everyone seemed to love it, if he took into account the way they were constantly blinded by flashes while their names were screamed by the crowd.
But something ended up malfunctioning in the middle of it. Since the beginning, a missile kept jerking violently but now it was its time to shine as the cable suddenly snapped, sending the missile plummeting directly towards the crowd.
Before he could even react, Chiara was on it as she tried to redirect the missile away before it could hit the ground.
To his relief, it worked, but only for a second but the missile detonated prematurely. Something neither of them could have anticipated.
The explosion ripped across the square and it shook the nearby buildings while shockwaves slammed through the crowd.
And Chiara ? She completely lost control as the winds erupted outward her body in violent bursts, sending the barricades flying and the windows shattering.
The sound of civilians screaming was deafening but he forced himself through the storm in search of her.
“CHIARA!” he screamed at the top of his lungs as he desperately looked around.
When he finally saw her, she collapsed on the ground near the ruined platform. The concrete beneath her cracked from the pressure of the winds that kept erupting from her body.
She was on her knees, her trembling hands pressed against the pavement as if she could hold herself together and contain her powers. As if she could stop herself.
Blood was pouring heavily from her nose and she had coughing first that made her spit blood.
Even though she was in clear pain, she couldn't stop apologizing because no matter what, she couldn't stop herself.
“I'm sorry–” she choked between two coughing fits. “I can't–”
Another violent gust erupted from her, making the cars around them rock violently, almost sending them flying.
He only managed to reach her the moments her arms gave out beneath her, sending her to collapse hard onto the pavement.
“Chiara!” he yelled in panic as he dropped beside her instantly, grabbing her head before it could smash against the ground.
But terror filled him as soon as he had her in his arms. Her body felt weak, way too weak and way too cold. Blood stained the corner of her lips while she struggled to breathe, as if every inhale was painful to her.
And at every spike of pain tearing through her, the wind grew stronger.
“Hey,” he said quickly as he carefully cradled her face, smudging blood on his gloves and her cheeks. “Stay with me.”
Yet her eyes barely focused on him, she was unable to truly pay attention to him.
“Robbie…” she still managed to mutter before another cough tore through her violently. Blood splattered across his jacket as she did so, but he couldn't care about that when she was literally dying in his arms.
“It hurts,” she whispered weakly.
Those two words broke his heart as he remembered how she told him that her powers were killing her. He knew that if he didn't do anything right now, her organs would all shut down and he couldn't let that happen.
He made his décision almost instantly as he shoved his hand inside his jacket to retrieve that small syringe that held the V1.
Once she noticed the syringe between his fingers, the blue liquid, fear flickered in her eyes as she could only remember how that same liquid was killing her right now.
“No…” she muttered between ragged breaths.
“I know.” he cooed as he tried to reassure her. He knew she didn't trust the liquid in that syringe but it was the only way to save her.
She stopped for a second when she noticed the look of genuine fear on his face. It was the first time that she saw that look in his eyes since she met him. He was not scared for himself but for her.
“I stole it.”
The winds around them only grew stronger, covering the screams of the Vought employees.
“Robbie… don’t…” she pleaded as she weakly tried to grab his wrist.
“You’re dying.”
The hand still cradling her cheeks was trembling as his thumb rubbed her cheek to dry her pained tears. Yet, at the same time he was smudging her own blood there.
“You think I’m gonna sit here and watch that happen?” His voice cracked harshly as he seemed ready to break down at the mere thought of her dying. “No. No goddamn way.”
Before she could try to reply, another coughing fit stopped her, splattering even more blood onto his uniform.
At this sight, he knew he couldn't wait anymore as he directly moved to uncap the syringe.
“Forgive me later.”
Then, without any hesitation, he drove the needle into her arm and injected the V1.
Almost instinctively, she screamed and her body squirmed violently against him. The winds got so strong that they slammed him backwards but he held onto her, wrapping his arm around her so she wouldn't get hurt in the process.
“Chiara!”
He could see the way her blue veins were glowing unnaturally beneath her skin as the V1 was spreading fast while she became almost still in his arms.
For a moment, he thought that he killed her himself but suddenly, everything stopped. The winds vanished as the debris that were previously floating around crashed onto the ground.
The following silence felt heavy into the now empty and ruined streets. But he couldn't focus on that, not when she was still limp in his arms.
“Chiara.” he tried once, the lack of response making him panic.
“Chiara!” he tried again, gently shaking her. He needed her to wake up.
And finally, a shaky breath escaped her lips. It was weak but it was there. At this, relief flooded him and a heavy exhale escaped his lips when her eyes opened once again.
The burst blood vessels in her eyes faded almost directly while her breathing seemed smoother.
When her gaze met his, the air suddenly felt warmer as his mere presence was enough to calm down the atmosphere itself.
He didn't even dare to move, scared that if he did, she would go limp again and reveal that he didn't save her, that it was all in his head.
But when she tried to reach for him, he broke. He pulled her tightly against his chest as he buried his face into her hair. He knew she could feel the erratic beat of his heart and how shaky his breath was but he didn't care.
“You scared the hell outta me,” he whispered against her hair. He then pressed kisses there, unable to stop himself, it was a way for him to make sure that she really was there.
Meanwhile, she weakly buried her face against his shoulders, unable to truly process what happened to her.
“I’m sorry…”
“Don’t. You're alive and that's what matters.”
They both could hear the sirens through the streets and the way the Vought executives were screaming their names from afar.
But none of that mattered to him. What mattered is that she was alive, that she was here.
He knew for certain that nothing would take her away from him again, and certainly not Vought.
Somethin' stupid
part 1 ; part 2
summary : one news seems to be enough to change everything between chiara and robbie
pairing : fem! self ship x bombsight (robbie)
warning : SMUT (18 +), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), mentions of death, a bit of angst but also a bit of fluff
The first sign that something was wrong with her happened during filming a new commercial.
At first, she believed that it was exhaustion. After all, Vought was constantly pushing her schedule harder and harder now that Windfall was getting more famous in America.
She was now doing more interviews, more commercials beside bombsight because audiences adored the two together.
She ignored the warning signs such as dizziness whenever she used her powers for too long. Or the constant headaches blooming behind her eyes. Or even the sharp pressure in her chest whenever she lost control over her powers.
Vought doctors dismissed her worries so she did the only thing she could do, to keep smiling.
—
The commercial took place inside a familial house where Bombsight was supposed to return to after a fake military operation while Windfall greeted him home.
It was domestic and Vought adored it. They knew that the audiences would adore this.
The cameras rolled while Chiara cooked, making the ingredients float around her.
“Beautiful,” the director encouraged, clearly proud of how far she had come since her first commercial.
Then, Bombsight stepped into frame beside her. As soon as he was near her, the air shifted around them. Every time he was near her, her heartbeat reacted.
“Welcome home,” she recited softly as she offered him a bright smile.
“Miss me?” he asked smoothly. It was scripted but the smiles that tugged both of their lips weren't.
“Unfortunately.” At her reply, he snorted quietly beneath his breath and the director adored this scene.
“Keep that,” he shouted excitedly. “That chemistry right there.”
She tried to stay focused on the scene, on her script but suddenly, a sharp pain split through her chest making her unable to breathe.
Every ingredient dropped on the ground while wind surged outward hard enough to shake the lights. At this, some of the crew members stepped back immediately, fearing for their own safety.
Yet, bombsight was the only who didn't look at her in annoyance, but in concern. She was pale, way too pale.
“Cut!” the director yelled. “Jesus Christ—”
The short break allowed her to press a trembling hand against her ribs while she struggled to breathe normally again.
“I’m okay,” she managed automatically as she already felt guilty about interrupting the shooting. Especially after how well everything was starting to evolve.
But that wasn't enough to convince him as he was already walking toward her, not even letting her finish speaking.
“You don’t look okay.”
“It’s just stress.” she quickly replied as she didn’t want him to worry too.
“Bullshit.”
The words came out sharp, maybe way sharper than intended but he was more worried about her than about his own tone.
Still, he lowered his voice almost immediately when he noticed the startled look crossing her face.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just… sit down a second.”
Before she could even protest or act like she was fine, his hand settled against the small of her back to guide her toward a nearby chair.
The feeling of his hand, even gloved, resting against her back grounded her. Once sat, his hand moved to rest on her knee, drawing soothing circles on the exposed skin.
Unfortunately for her, Vought noticed her state.
—
Three days later, Vought asked her to come to the medical wing once again. It was her second time and by now, the white walls and leds became suffocating and too familiar.
They kept monitoring whenever she was using her powers, whether by making wind bursts or by dropping the oxygen in the room. Those examinations left her completely exhausted.
But today, the doctors looked nervous, and she knew that it meant one thing, that it was bad.
She sat on the edge of the examination while two doctors quietly reviewed the papers together across the room. They weren’t concerned by the fact that she could hear them.
“She’s deteriorating faster than expected.” one said “The vascular strain is worsening.”
Some of those words were pure gibberish to her but it was easy to understand that it was bad, like really bad.
“And her lungs?” one of the two asked, creating a small silence as they both looked at the paper.
“Pulmonary damage.”
A feeling of dread settled heavily inside her stomach. She wasn’t dumb, she knew that it was bad and that she probably would die if the list kept getting longer.
Finally, one of the two men approached her directly, making her look up at him. Just a look at his professional expression was enough to make this feeling of dread even more suffocating.
“Miss Adami,” he said slowly, in a rehearsed voice, as if he was trying to calm down a skittish animal. “Your body is struggling to adapt to the Compound V.”
“What do you mean ?” She asked as she felt her throat tightening, but she refused to break down in front of them.
“It means that your powers are placing stress on your organs faster than anticipated.” He said calmly, as if he wasn't telling her that she was literally dying.
“Your generation of supes is still experimental compared to V1. So we still are unaware of some of the side effects.”
His words made her feel sick, she felt ready to puke but she forced herself to stay calm.
“You'll need monitoring,” he continued, not even caring about sparing her feelings. “We will make sure to reduce your emotional strains, to avoid some of your power output whenever it's possible.”
She almost laughed at this. As if Vought would care about putting less pressure on one of their products. They cared more about money than about them.
“What happens if it gets worse?” she asked. She could feel the way her voice grew shaky as she spoke, but she didn't feel like caring about it.
Only silence replied to her as the doctors clearly hesitated. Somehow, that was even more terrifying to her.
—
Bombsight found her afterward while she sat alone outside the medical wing. Her makeup was still a mess, it was pretty obvious that she had been crying. The mascara was smudged just below her eyes.
He immediately crouched in front of her, his hand moving directly to her knee, massaging it in a comforting manner. The gesture became almost automatic after the first time he did it.
“What happened ?”
She tried smiling at him but it failed directly. She felt unable to fake happiness this time.
“They say my body is not adapting properly to compound V,” she admitted as she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “Every time I use my powers, it hurts me.”
Speaking it aloud felt even worse, because it made everything real. Things were only starting to look good and she wouldn't even be able to truly enjoy it.
“What do you mean it hurts you?” he asked in a worried tone.
“They say that I have pulmonary damage. But it's not only that, it attacks all of my organs too.”
For a second, his face turned blank. He couldn't even hide behind his smirk or sarcasm. He only felt stunned anger.
“And they still got you filming? They still got you doing their stupid events ?”
She didn't even answer him, but it was enough to answer his questions. He couldn't stand still anymore, standing up abruptly. He started muttering as he paced around the room.
“Those goddamn—”
“Robbie.”
She called out softly and her voice was enough to stop him instantly. The look on his face was hurting her even more than admitting that she was dying.
Because for the first time, someone truly cared about her but she didn't even have enough time with him.
Slowly, he crouched down in front of her again and stayed silent for a while until she admitted softly : “I'm scared.”
Her confession was only a whisper but it was enough for him to look down at his hand that moved to rest near her hand.
“Yeah.” he answered quietly.
He couldn't even reassure her because he was just as scared. But still, an idea formed in his mind.
—
After that day, something shifted, as if the distance they tried to maintain was slowly disappearing.
He was always close to her, whether during filming, interviews or even galas. It was as if he parted from her, she would disappear.
Some would call it hovering but she didn't care. She allowed him to.
Because if she died, at least, she would have enjoyed his presence as much as possible.
—
A few days later, during a rainy evening, filming ended up late. Most of the crew had already gone home, wanting to avoid the storm that was brewing outside.
Ever since she earned her power, the sound of thunder became weirdly calming.
She sat wrapped in Bombsight’s leather jacket. Once again, she was sitting on the porch of one of the fake houses, the script for tomorrow laying forgotten on her laps.
She was watching Bombsight as he leaned against an artificial streetlight, smoking while he also listened to the sound of rain hammering against the roof of the studio.
“Aren't you tired of staring ?” He asked her suddenly, not even turning to look back at her.
At his words, she could feel her cheeks heating up in embarrassment.
“I wasn’t staring.” she quickly defended herself. She knew that she answered way too fast but she didn't care.
“Sure.”
An amused smirk stretched his lips while she rolled her eyes. Silence settled between them once again, but it didn't need to be filled, it was comfortable.
Eventually, he turned his head to look at her. His gaze was soft but also full of worry for her.
“You should be home resting.”
“You should too,” she countered. Since that night when she saw him taking those pills, she made the vow to stay on set until he left, so at least, he wouldn't take some under her watch.
“The difference is I’m not the one coughing blood after moving air around all day.”
Her expression crumpled directly at his words, making him mutter a curse as he regretted his words as soon they left his mouth.
“Chiara–”
“No, you’re right.” she said softly, her voice shaky. It always hurts to hear that, no matter how true it was.
“I think I'm dying a little,” she finally added in a whisper, playing with her fingers. A nervous gesture she gained through the years.
That confession was enough to have him moving. He crushed the butt of the cigarette under his foot before crossing the set in long strides, stopping directly in front of her. He was now so close that she has to tilt her head up to meet his gaze with her own.
“You listen to me,” he said, voice low but rough. “You are not dying.”
“But you know what the doctors said–”
“You're not,” he said, truly believing his own words. He had a plan but he couldn't tell her anything yet, even if he was itching to spill everything.
Slowly, he lifted his hand, giving her time to pull away if she wished to. When she didn't try to move away, his warm and calloused fingers brushed beneath her chin. The touch was gentle though as he tilted her face up.
Neither of them moved though, even if her powers reacted directly to the proximity. A warm wind swirling between both of them.
His eyes darkened as they flicked down to her lips. “Christ,” he murmured, his voice rough with months of restraint and longing.
Then, he finally kissed her. It wasn't soft or hesitant but deep and urgent as if a dam finally broke. His lips were firm and warm against hers, she could still taste and smell the cigarette that he just smoked.
His hand stayed cupped beneath her chin while the other slid down to her waist, pulling her closer until her body was flushed against his chest.
Her breath hitched against his mouth. One of her hands fisted in the front of his buttoned shirt, anchoring herself while the kiss almost overwhelmed her.
She could feel how his stubble scraped against her skin while his tongue brushed against her lower lip. Instinctively, she parted her lips for him as he took this opportunity to deepen the kiss that became even more consuming.
The wind that was already swirling around them grew stronger. Making papers scatter around and the lights swaying overhead.
Yet, as soon as his thumb stroked her jaw tenderly, the wind stopped. Once again, he was able to calm her without even doing much.
When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard. Both of their lips were swollen and tingling but they couldn't hold back the smile stretching their lips as they stared at each other.
Bombsight rested his forehead against hers, their eyes closing for a moment.
“Well… I guess we crossed a new line,” he said, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. She couldn't even her own shaky laugh that escaped her in return.
This new feeling was overwhelming but before she could truly overthink it, she leaned in and kissed him this time.
—
That night, after they left the set, she followed him back to his apartment. They had some quiet agreement that both didn't want to be alone tonight, and their first kiss didn't help that.
Once inside, she lingered near the doorway while he tossed his keys onto the counter.
She took in the inside of his apartment. Just like hers, it was provided by Vought so their layout was the same. But his apartment was a little messier, with records stacked near a record player and an empty coffee mug near his leather couch.
There were also posters of his last two movies hanging on the wall. There were some photos of his time at the army and with his parents but his voice took her out of her thoughts.
“Coffee ?” He offered her with a smile.
“At midnight ?” She replied in an amused tone as she followed him into the small kitchen, leaning against the counter.
“I could offer you something else,” he finally suggested. His tone and his smirk were enough to depict what he was hinting at.
“And what is that ?” She replied playfully, not moving away as he slowly stepped closer, giving her every chance to step away.
Once his hands settled on her waist, his palms warm through her dress, her breath hitched slightly. Those touches were still new but she already craved more of those.
“You alright?” he asked, his voice low. As if he didn't want anyone to hear them even if they were alone.
She simply nodded before leaning and pressing her lips against his, she wasn't used to initiating but tonight, she didn't care.
The kiss was soft at first but quickly deepened with need. His response was just as hungry as he pulled her closer.
His hand slid to her back, slowly unbuttoning her dress between kisses. Once her dress crumpled to her feet, then his lips moved down to her neck, to her collarbone and to the swell of her breast while he unfastened her bra.
When she reached for his shirt, she could feel her fingers trembling. As soon as he noticed this, he helped her by guiding her hands over his chest to let her explore at her own pace.
“Come on,” he murmured against her skin before guiding her to his bedroom.
She had no time to take in the new space as he laid her down on the bed, settling between her parted thighs. His hands and mouth stayed gentle but he mapped every inch of her skin as he kissed his way down her body.
When his mouth wrapped around her left nipple, a soft whimper escaped her parted lips at the sensation. Moans followed when he kept his attention on her breasts until her nipples hardened.
Then his fingers made their way between her legs as he pulled her panties to the side. When his index made contact with her slick heat, her hips bucked instinctively at the touch while she gasped.
“Tell me if anything feels too much,” he murmured against her skin, looking up to meet her gaze with his own.
“I promise,” she simply whispered as a reassurance, it was quickly followed by a shaky moan when he inserted his fingers inside her.
It was obvious that he was experienced with the way he kept rubbing a spot inside her that she never reached before by herself but that felt way too good.
She could already feel herself getting close and by judging the smirk on his face, he could feel it too.
“Come on… let go,” he murmured against her skin before nipping it.
She had no idea why her body complied so easily but attributed it to her feelings for him and the way he seemed to clearly know what he was doing.
A moan escaped her lips as she climaxed for the first time that night. Unable to keep her eyes open as she did so, she closed them as she allowed the pleasure to wash over her.
He helped her ride it over by continuing his ministrations until he could feel her orgasm dying down, until she stopped milking his fingers.
Then, he removed his fingers from inside her, crawling up to press his lips against hers.
Her hands fumbled to push off his pants and boxers together.
“We can stop anytime,” he murmured against her lips but she only shook her head at his words. “You say the word.”
She pulled him closer instead. “I want this, Robbie. I want you.”
Hearing her words, he positioned himself at her entrance before slowly easing into her. The sharp sting of it made her breath hitch while her nails dug into his back.
That feeling made him still inside her almost immediately. Once again, he kissed her while murmuring words of encouragement against her lips.
“You're doing so good,” he kept repeating until the discomfort eased into a pleasurable ache. “So perfect.”
He began to move only once she relaxed with a slow and deep rhythm. The pleasure built once again gradually with every thrust and every rub of his thumb against her clit.
The entire time, the rhythm stayed unhurried. Eventually, she wrapped her legs around him to pull him deeper as the pleasure got slowly more and more overwhelming.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, even if it was only minutes, her second climax washed over her, still sensitive from her previous one. It triggered his own as hips stilled against hers, his cum painting her insides.
She couldn't find it in herself to care about the possible consequences with the way he groaned her name before kissing her.
–
Afterward, they laid tangled together under his bedsheets. Their damp skin slowly cooling down while they were catching their breaths.
Robbie couldn't stop touching her, his palm massaging her back like he needed it to reassure himself that she was still there with him. That she was still breathing.
For the first time since she earned her powers, they were completely still. It felt nice for a change.
After a long silence he pressed a kiss against her hair and whispered : “I love you, y'know.”
It seemed that he was surprised by his own words when she looked up and saw his slightly widened eyes and his pink cheeks.
Still, Chiara's heartbeat fastened as she couldn't help but feel slightly dizzy.
“I love you too,” she murmured before pressing her lips against his in a soft kiss that he returned.
For once, they both felt at peace as if nothing could happen to them. As if a small blue vial wasn't hidden in his jacket if something ever went wrong with her.
I walk the line
pt 2 of dream a little dream of me
summary : after the first commercial, everything starts to change between chiara and bombsight as they learn more and more about each other
pairing : fem! self ship x bombsight (robbie)
warnings : 50s misogyny, objectification of women, toxic family and soldier boy is a warning in himself
The next commercials were slowly becoming easier to film. They served as the perfect practice for her even if she still stumbled over her marks and forgot some lines from time to time.
But Vought seemed pleased by her. They were putting so much importance on performances and were slick enough to put a good pr on a few mistakes, even the bigger ones.
To her, only bombsight seemed genuine, if she based her thoughts on him on their first encounter during that commercial. .
Maybe it was because she didn't meet the other supes yet but deep down, she knew that it wasn't the sole reason.
The words he spoke to her, the way he was truly seeing her impacted her more than she would have thought. She blamed it on the fact that he was the first person who saw her for who she really was.
Not a product. Not a failure. Not a bad daughter.
After this day, she couldn't help but notice him constantly. She was always on the lookout for him, always searching for his leather jacket whenever she was walking around the Vought's headquarters.
She didn't dare to put a name on what she was feeling yet because in all honesty, she didn't even know what those feelings truly were.
—
The current commercial set looked like a suburban street once again. At this rate, she was starting to doubt that Vought owned different sets.
She was assigned to work with Bombsight once again. The mere thought made her stomach twist, especially since they were now playing husband and wife.
“Places !” The director's voice shook her out of her thoughts, taking her right back to where she was, in the front yard of their fake family house.
She was making float a few glasses of lemonade that she was bringing to Bombsight as he was standing near a fake telephone pole that he was supposed to repair.
“Miss your mark one time and we will restart the whole sequence, Windfall.”
Just those words were enough to both annoy Chiara and make her nervous. No matter how much she was getting used to filming, she still wanted to please Vought, to please the director.
Her annoyance did flicker through a little when the overhead lights flickered. Not enough to truly worry the crew members but enough to be noticed by Bombsight.
His gaze flickered directly toward her, studying her to make sure everything was alright (and that a storm wasn't going to destroy the entire set).
The annoyed gaze from the director didn't waver and before he could bark another reproach to her, he was interrupted.
“Bark at her again and I'm pretty sure you're going to lose a few cameras this time,” Bombsight drawled. The director was annoying him already and the filming only started.
Right behind him, stood Chiara who stared around in embarrassment. Unsure how to feel in the middle of this situation.
“It's alright,” she quickly said, her gaze darting between Bombsight and the director. “I can do it.”
“Yeah, I know,” the other supe replied to her, his words catching her off guard.
“Just breathe before they blow a gasket,” he murmured to her playfully, leaning in slightly so they wouldn't overhear him.
A small giggle escaped her lips at his words, her hands moving to cover her mouth and muffle the sound.
It was his time to be confused by his own feelings brought by her laughter.
—
Rest wasn't an option after filming, both were brought by Vought to a military fundraising gala downtown aka her very first official social event.
She remembered how gala events always looked magical in the films she watched as a little girl. The women were wearing elegant gowns while orchestras played on stage. She imagined movie stars descending staircases while receiving praises and looks of awe.
But reality was different when both her and Bombsight were forced to keep their costumes. After all, their costumes were what they embodied and without it, they would be nothing. Well, according to Vought.
In her opinion, Bombsight had it easy. His costume was identical to the ones worn by the combat pilots in the U.S. Armed Forces. It was meant to show in which faction he belonged to during the war, before becoming a supe.
Her costume was worse, way worse. The pale blue bodice hugged her waist so tightly that breathing became a challenge, and the sweetheart neckline of her costume dipped way too low in her opinion. She had to resist the constant urge of tugging it higher. The skirt stopped short and she had to keep tugging on it to feel, at least, a little comfortable. In her opinion, she was wearing something that came out of a pinup calendar. She didn’t feel like a supe at all.
The golden clouds embroidered on the cape were shimmering beneath the ballroom lights. It was beautiful but also completely humiliating.
This entire outfit made her feel displayed like some sort of toy and the men at the gala clearly agreed. She could feel the way their stares lingered, the way military officers lingered too long when she passed and the way older politicians were openly glancing down her body mid-conversation with a smile that made her skin crawl.
One senator even placed his hand right on the spot where the skin of her back was bared while complimenting her “figure.” At this moment, she could feel her powers crawling under her skin, ready to summon a gust of wind directly into his face. Yet, she bit her cheek until she tasted blood to hold herself back.
By the time they passed both the photographers and the journalists, her nerves felt frayed raw. The blinding flashbulbs that kept exploding didn’t help at all while she could only smile at everyone.
She barely remembered the questions asked and the answers she replied. To be honest, she didn’t really care because every word she spoke tonight sounded artificial. It didn't feel like herself at all.
Eventually, a few hours later, she managed to escape towards the refreshments table when the Vought handler that had been by her side the whole night ended up caught in a discussion with a businessman. She received no answers when she told him that she was going to get some champagne.
Once there, she exhaled shakily while leaning against the wall, trying to fight off the knot that was forming inside her throat the whole night.
“That bad?” Bombsight’s voice startled her as he now stood beside her, appearing out of nowhere and holding two champagne glasses. She was so focused on calming herself down that she hadn’t even seen him approach.
“I’m alright,” she replied automatically. She knew that it was an obvious lie and he definitely knew about it when his gaze lingered on her for a second before drifting across the ballroom and toward the men still staring at her. At this, annoyance flickered briefly across his face.
“Sure you are,” he muttered. His tone made her glance at him properly. He didn't sound teasing, he sounded annoyed and protective. As if he was ready to throw a businessman through a wall if the older man opened his mouth.
Instead, he handed her one of the champagne glasses that he intentionally grabbed for her.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He shrugged casually, but his eyes flickered towards the way her fingers were once again tugging down the edge of her skirt. Something she did constantly tonight. At this thought, his jaw tightened.
“They got you dressed like a goddamn calendar girl,” he said flatly.
“I didn’t choose it.” she replied while heat rushed into her cheeks in embarrassment.
“I know.”
Something about his answer made her chest ache. He said it without hesitation and without blame. It was almost like he was angry on her behalf but she had a hard time believing that. After all, they barely knew each other, there was no way he would get protective and attached to a rookie like her who kept messing everything up.
Before she could respond, Bombsight glanced once more toward a group of military officials openly staring nearby. His expression darkened at that.
Then, with visible annoyance, he shrugged off his brown leather flight jacket where his name was embroidered on the back. It made her blink in clear confusion, trying to understand what he was doing.
“What are you doing?”
“Put it on.”
“What?”
“Unless you enjoy half this ballroom starin’ at you like starving dogs.”
She couldn’t even process his words or how her breath hitched at because he was already draping it around her shoulders, preventing her from trying to protest.
The jacket swallowed her almost entirely. It smelt like heavy leather, smoke and cologne. It smelled like him and in a way, it was comforting.
“There,” he muttered as he adjusted the collar once before stepping back. “That’s better.”
Something fluttered violently inside her chest but she was unable to focus on it while she was drowning in his scent and under his understanding gaze.
—
The next morning, as she returned to her brand new apartment offered by Vought, she found flowers waiting outside her door. Her brows furrowed as she crouched to search for a note tucked between the roses.
One she found it, in a familiar handwriting, she could read :
“We saw your billboard in Times Square. We’re proud of you. Call us.
Love, Mama & Papa”
She stared blankly at the note for a few seconds. She remembered her sixteenth birthday when her father told her that actresses always ended up lonely or disgraced when she dared to express her dream.
Or when her mother laughed after she got rejected from a theater production while telling her to “grow up” already. That she was still a foolish kid.
But ever since Vought checks arrived every month and that her face was printed on magazines and posters. They suddenly became proud and loving parents.
The flowers ended up in the trash as soon as she stepped inside her apartment.
—
Her career was growing as organically as possible when she was literally Vought’s new products because a few months later, she was invited to the premiere of private’s angel new movie.
The photographers delayed her entrance from the theater by nearly forty minutes, drowning her in constant flashes. Surprisingly, she was allowed to wear a blue and gold satin dress for this event. But she didn’t think too much of it, at least she received less hungry stares.
By the time she entered the theater, almost every seat was occupied. Well, except the one beside Bombsight.
He was sprawled comfortably in his chair; way too casual for someone who was wearing a tailored navy suit worth more than the apartment she grew up in and that appeared on almost every ad sponsored by Vought.
She stopped beside him, sending him a confused look. “You saved me a seat?”
“Nah,” he replied immediately as if it wasn’t an obvious lie. “Nobody else wanted it.”
She scoffed in amusement as she sat down beside him, not noticing the way he looked at her or the way that the producer sitting in the row behind them looked deeply offended, as if Bombsight just cursed his entire bloodline.
Halfway through the film, Chiara ended up leaning slightly toward him. “You threatened somebody for this seat, didn’t you?” she murmured, not wanting to disturb the audience that was clearly focused on the movie playing.
“I threatened lots of people today,” he murmured back.
A small laugh escaped her lips before she could prevent it. She didn’t care about the people hushing around her, she only cared about the way the sound made him glance sideways at her.
And for some reason, they exchanged sideways glances and amused smiles the entire night as they completely forgot about the movie in front of them.
—
Eventually, staying late together on set became their new normal. They told themselves that it wasn’t intentional, that it just kept happening but they both knew the truth.
Around them, the crew would dismantle sets while they lingered nearby, sharing their thoughts about almost everything that crossed their minds. Those moments felt real, and it was necessary to stay sane when you end up working for Vought.
One night, they remained on set long after filming wrapped, the crew not having enough power to fire two of Vought’s coveted heroes from their workplace. And it was not like they were destroying the set, they were just talking.
Half of the artificial suburban street had already been dismantled but this now usual scenery held some kind of comfort for her because she knew that she would always share this type of commercial with Bombsight.
Chiara sat cross-legged on the stairs of the porch of a pale yellow wooden house while he was leaned against the railing of the stairs, on her left, smoking lazily as the smoke curled upwards.
“You ever think about quittin’?” he asked suddenly. The sudden question surprised her, she didn’t think he would even breach that subject with her during their talks.
“Acting?” she asked to make sure that she did understand his question.
“This whole place.”
Her gaze ended up drifting across the dismantled set around them. He was talking about Vought and the fake happiness, the fake America they were selling to every citizen. Then, slowly, she shook her head.
“I can’t. Because if I fail now, they were right about me. About how I’m made for failure”
Bombsight frowned slightly. “Who?”
“My parents.”
The words tasted bitter on her tongue. It was normal, she guessed, after all she knew that parents were supposed to be encouraging and loving but she ended up having no luck in that department.
“My father used to leave newspapers open whenever actresses got divorced,” she admitted quietly. “He was telling me that it is what happens to women who chase attention with their silly dreams.”
Bombsight stayed silent, it seemed like he understood that it was something that deeply affected her§
“My mother said acting was embarrassing after a certain age,” she continued with a slight tremble in her voice. “Said eventually I’d stop marry somebody sensible to start a family, that it was what I should do.”
A breeze shifted unconsciously around her, her hurt at those memories manifesting once again due to her powers.
“But now I get money from Vought and now I am suddenly their little star. Suddenly they always believed in me.”
For a long moment, he said nothing as he tried to process everything and not hurt her feelings more by speaking carelessly. Then he finally muttered: “That’s a hell of a thing to do to your kid.”
Something tightened in her chest at his words, after all, it was the first time someone acknowledged what she went through and didn’t diminish it.
—
It seemed that a few nights later, it was her turn to learn something new about Bombsight, or Robbie like he asked her to call him.
That night, she forgot her gloves inside the soundstage after filming and only returned when everyone was supposed to already be home. At first glance, the studio seemed empty but movement near the lodges caught her attention.
She knew that she should just leave with her gloves and leave some intimacy to that person but something inside her told her that it was not the right choice to do.
So, she tried to walk as sneakily as possible and stopped near Robbie’s opened lodge. He sat alone beneath the soft lights of the lodge, exhaustion clearly visible from her spot. It seemed like he didn’t even notice her.
She watched him tilt two small white pills into his palm before swallowing them dry with cold coffee.her nose scrunched instinctively at the thought of the cold coffee taste but the sight clearly made her worry.
It looked like he did this before, and many times at that.
When he realized that she was there a few seconds later, he stiffened but he hid it with his usual smirk. Slowly, she learned to read behind that smirk but tonight, she felt a little clueless.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said lightly as if she didn’t walk on him seemingly taking drugs.
Chiara hesitated near the doorway. She was unsure how to proceed, after all she never dealt with drugs directly. “Like what?”
“Like I’m dying.” He leaned back in the chair lazily. “Docs give half the team these things. Keeps us awake.”
The casualness of it was unsettling. She could see how tired he truly was yet he was acting like it was all fine and she had no idea how to help him without losing the only person that truly seemed to see her.
“You should sleep instead,” she said quietly.
That earned a soft laugh from him. He didn’t seem offended, instead, it looked like he simply accepted his fate.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “you think Vought lets people like us sleep?”
For once, the petname didn’t make her heart flutter but twist her hearts in concern. His words lingering with her even when she laid in bed hours later.
—
Today was the day. She was officially meeting another member from Bombsight’s team. And it wasn’t anyone, it was Soldier Boy aka the leader and Vought’s golden child.
She remembered how much her friends gushed about him whenever he appeared in the newspapers, in movies and even in his advertisements. Of course, she found him attractive, she had eyes after all. But weirdly, she never felt compelled to crush on the man.
Maybe it was because he was too unattainable or that her brain didn’t have enough space to think about men when she had too many things to worry about at that time.
But now that she was about to face him, she felt nervous, just like when she was about to meet Bombsight for the first time on her first commercial.
She observed the new supe when he entered the room like it belonged to him, as if everything here revolved around him. Which it kinda did. Everyone straightened whenever he walked past them, even the members of his own team.
But Bombsight was the only one who looked more irritated than anything.
In front of him, she could understand why her friends gushed so much about him. He was handsome but he was also charismatic. She couldn’t deny that. And he was aware of his own appeal;
“Well, hell,” Soldier Boy drawled after spotting her standing a little awkwardly near the conference table. “So this is the new sweetheart everybody keeps talkin’ about.”
She straightened instinctively when he approached. Up close, he was intimidating and clearly scary to her. She didn’t even dare to frown in his direction.
He took her hand before she could react and pressed a theatrical kiss against her knuckles. She cursed herself internally when she blushed, she hated being the center of attention right now, in this room full of supes and Vought executives.
“Windfall, right?”
“Yes, sir.” she replied quickly, not wanting to mess up in front of everyone;
“Aw,” he grinned. “She’s polite too.”
Across the room, Bombsight looked unimpressed and a little irritated, if one could tell by the scowl etched onto his face. And unfortunately for him, Soldier boy noticed it, an amused smile curling up his lips at the sight.
“You been takin’ good care of her, Bombsight?” Soldier Boy asked casually while still looking at the woman in front of him.
Robbie crossed his arms, holding himself back from doing anything rash when he saw the way the other man interacted with Windfall, how he talked about her. “She ain’t a dog.”
“Touchy.”
It was obvious to everyone that the tension between them wasn’t anything new. It had been there for years but her presence seemed to fuel it.
Soldier Boy finally released her hand but stayed standing slightly too close for both her liking and for Bombsight’s too.
“You know,” he said lightly, “you’re prettier than your posters.”
Before she could even react to the flirty words, Robbie reacted instantly from across the room. “Jesus Christ.”
“What?” Soldier Boy asked innocently. “I’m bein’ friendly.”
“You’re bein’ a pain in my ass.”
At this, the other supe barked out a laugh. Yet, she could only focus on the man across the room as it dawned on her that he was jealous.
—
One evening, after another gala, she slipped away onto a balcony for air. She got used to it after her first one, months ago.
She felt more at ease, more comfortable in her own skin.
New York was beautiful from up here but the sight wasn't the reason why she escaped.
The reason why was already there, leaning against the railing with an unfinished cigarette between his fingers.
The wind was tugging at his blond strands that were usually brushed to perfection.
He looked tired tonight and his smirk wasn't good enough to hide it.
She moved beside him, leaning too against the railing and for a moment both stayed silent.
Then she looked at him, taking in his profile.
“You know,” she said softly, “I never liked Soldier Boy that much.”
That earned a snort from him as if he didn't believe her.
“That makes one of us.”
“No,” she corrected quietly. “I mean I never understood why everyone is gushing on him like he is the only supe, as if he doesn't have teammates.”
Silence settled once again between them but it wasn't an awkward one. It didn't need to be filled.
Bombsight slowly turned toward her and for the first time since she met him, since she got to know him, a vulnerable look crossed his face.
This time he knew that she was also truly seeing him too, just like he was seeing her since the beginning.
Then, he moved his hand so it could rest on her and somehow, that felt right.
Dream a little dream of me
summary : when an aspiring actress stumble on a newspaper advertisement by Vought, she knows it's her last chance to achieve her dream and become an actress. But the advertisement never mentioned anything about powers or end up being paired with bombsight.
pairing : fem!self ship x bombsight (robbie)
warnings : not much apart 50s misogyny, bad parents and some physical pain because of the compound v
notes : this self insert series come from me and my friends in the reggie's groupchat on twitter so it is mainly from them but feel free to read it. Also first post ever here, very scary methinks.
New York, 1952
The first thing that could be noticed about the Vought waiting room was how quiet it was.
Almost every chair were occupied by young men and young women beneath enormous patriotic posters. On every poster were the faces of soldier boy, bombsight, private angel, torpedo, private angel and liberty accompanied by the words “America needs more heroes”.
Some of the candidates wore expensive dresses while others looked like they had spent their very last dollars on their clothes. The secretaries were moving across the rooms to accompany the candidates to the audition room.
Chiara's nose kept scrunching at the heavy scent of smoke while she smoothed invisible wrinkles from her skirt. It was a nervous habit of hers.
If her mother was here, she would probably slap her hand away and tell her how no one would cast her if she kept fidgeting. The mere memory of her family made her stomach twist.
She didn't tell them the real reason why she came to New York for this audition. The newspaper advertisement promised acting opportunities but everyone knew what they were truly searching : more supes after the success of V1.
And Chiara needed work. Small theater roles weren't enough to pay rent, forcing her to work as a waitress in a local diner. And every audition went bad : she was too soft-spoken, too nervous and not memorable enough.
But with this, she could prove to her family that her dreams were reachable. That she could do it.
A few minutes later, a woman in a gray pencil skirt stepped into the room holding a brown clipboard.
“Chiara Adami ?”
Her name being called made her stand up, stumbling a little as she did so. Meanwhile, the secretary looked over at her, approval flickered across her expression when she noticed the long blonde curls, the blue eyes and her soft makeup.
“Right this way.”
—
The audition room didn't really look like the usual ones she saw in the past. There was only a camera, a spotlight and a single chair in the middle.
In front of it was an observation glass where many men in white coats stood behind. It was easy to see that it wasn't about acting.
She quickly moved to the chair where a Vought executive asked her to sit.
“Miss Adami,” he said, “we’d like you to start by reading page three.”
As she took the script, her hands were trembling slightly, even fumbling a little as she opened it to page three.
The scenario was simple : a wartime housewife thanking Soldier boy for keeping the country safe.
At first, she started reading out loud with a slightly shaky voice but a few lines later her voice grew stronger.
At the end, the room stayed silent for a few minutes. That made her anxious once again. She wondered if she did badly because in her own opinion, she wasn't that bad at acting.
Then murmurs could be heard through the glass. “Good camera face but her voice needs coaching,” said an executive while the other nodded.
Another voice then spoke up, “turn around for me, sweetheart.” The words made her gag inside but she obeyed. It felt humiliating the way those men spoke during her auditions.
Humiliation turned to confusion when strange questions followed. They asked her if she considered herself emotional, if her family had a medical history or even how she reacted under pressure.
Unease pooled in her stomach but she still replied carefully. And once again, the room turned silent.
Minutes later, a door creaked open. At the sound, she turned to see a doctor entering the room, carrying a small metal case.
Chiara's heartbeat quickened while she glanced warily at the metal case.
Yet, she didn't dare to speak up as she had no idea what was going to happen next. Then, she met the doctor's gaze as he smiled warmly at her, but it wasn't comforting in any way.
The man opened the metal case. Inside rested a syringe filled with glowing blue liquid. She stared at it with wide eyes, unease coming back stronger as if her body sensed how dangerous it was.
“You’re familiar with Compound V?” he asked.
“Everyone in America is familiar with Compound V sir,” she replied politely, unaware that in the next decades, it would become a secret.
“But I thought that it was only for military subjects,” she added, noticing the amused glances exchanged by the executives as if she said something silly.
“Times are changing,” he replied simply. The way he talked made it sound like he was discussing laboratory animals, not humans. Her instincts screamed at her to run once again, to go back to her bed and forget about Vought.
But then she thought about : the unpaid rent letter still laying on her table, her father calling her dreams childish, her mother's eyes rolling when she was rejected after every audition.
She couldn't go back to waitressing, to being a nobody that would end up marrying a man that she didn't love. She didn't want that life, not at all. She didn’t want to end up just like her mother, she had to break that cycle before she could repeat it.
The executive must have noticed the hesitation. Because his posture softened immediately while his smile turned almost predatory, he knew she was about to give in.
“Miss Adami…You have extraordinary potential.”
And it worked on her, she felt foolish for that but it worked. She allowed the nurse that just entered the room to strap her wrist to the chair.
The nurse was the only comforting face here as she moved to roll up the sleeve of her blouse while the doctor adjusted the camera lens toward her face.
It was how she realized that she was a mere study; if that failed, she would only end up becoming a lesson for the next candidate. Then her gaze drifted once again to the syringe held up by the doctor.
“You may experience discomfort,” he warned as if it wasn't the understatement of the year but she still nodded.
She could feel the needle sliding into her arm. Weirdly it felt cold and quickly, that cold was spreading in her entire body, the cold flooding every nerve in her body at once.
Pain quickly followed as if a pressure was crushing her organs. The doctor's voices were muffled as she squirmed in pain, she couldn't even hear her own screams of pain.
Then, the air changed. Every paper in the room flew off the table violently, the observation window started rattling as if it might break at any moment.
Chiara squirmed again as wind exploded outward from her body, the camera ending up flying against the wall and shattering.
Once again, the air switched, the room suddenly lacking oxygen while pressure kept building inside her.
It was both terrifying and painful. She could feel something moving beneath her skin as if the liquid was alive.
The only thing she could understand was that the doctors’ voices now sounded alarmed but still muffled.
Then, just as suddenly the pain started, everything stopped. Every floating paper drifted to the ground while the air pressure went back to normal. But the room was a mess, as if a tornado ruined it.
In the middle of it, Chiara was still strapped to the chair, trembling and sobbing. She could feel the stares, it made her want to shrink or simply pass out.
Then one executive spoke, “My God,” in an amazed tone. She then realized the stares weren't in anger but in disbelief.
“She’s regulating the atmosphere itself…” said a doctor who went to hide behind the glass.
“What are we classifying this as?” asked the youngest executive to the older one in the room. The older man held a triumphant smile on his face at the sight of another success.
“Marketable,” he then said.
—
Three weeks later, she was renamed Windfall by Vought. Then, the costume fittings followed. But so did the voice coaching, the camera training and the media coaching.
It seemed like they didn't care about her powers. This confused her, they needed another supe yet didn't care about what made her a supe. Wasn't she supposed to help America ? Yet, she didn't dare to ask, the paycheck was enough to keep her mouth shut.
At least, doctors were still monitoring her powers. But it didn't feel that reassuring when she was told that her powers were directly related to her emotional state, they could grow violent under stress.
Vought ignored that entirely. They didn't care that she could cause disasters, they cared about her public appeal and the money it would bring.
The first time she saw her face on a promotional poster, she felt shocked. She never imagined seeing herself on a poster but now here she was. A feeling of pride then bloomed in her chest, her dreams were coming true, even if it was in a bit of a twisted way.
That same day, her little cloud of happiness was popped by Vought. It wasn’t because she received bad news.
In fact, that was excellent news but the mere thought of it made her anxious. She was going to film her first commercial alongside bombsight.
THE bombsight.
—
The set looked like the picture perfect suburban dream. But it also looked like it was made by someone who never lived out of New York.
Picket white fences, green lawns that were way too green and extras that smiled too much. The blue sky also looked way too fake and the fake sun was almost blinding.
Crew members ran around the set, carrying cables and props while directors screamed through their megaphones.
Yet, Chiara couldn't really focus on it as she stood near the edge of the set clutching her cue cards way too tightly.
Her costume felt too tight. To be honest, she still wasn't used to the way it hugged her waist, she never wore pinup like clothes in the past.
Finally, she focused when she noticed that everyone on set straightened. The air around her felt heavier, it was like a physical pressure on her shoulders.
It meant one thing : Bombsight arrived.
Her gaze easily found him as he walked confidently onto set, wearing his leather brown jacket, his navy gloves were tucked beneath one arm while makeup artists chased him to fix his makeup even though he already looked perfect.
He was intimidating because compared to her, he looked completely at ease there. He looked made to be in front of cameras, and she wasn't so sure if she was made for this.
One executive hurried over immediately. “Bombsight! Wonderful. You’ll be paired with Windfall today.”
At this, he glanced towards her briefly. It was short, but enough for her to forget how to breathe.
The executive continued enthusiastically as he didn't notice the way the two stared at each other for a quick moment.
“The audiences are going to love this dynamic. War hero meets girl-next-door optimism.”
Bombsight simply hummed, sounding completely uninterested while Chiara only thought about how she wanted to disappear.
—
The filming was awful. There were no other words needed to describe how it was currently going.
The first shot was simple, Chiara only needed to walk down the sidewalk, the grocery bags suspended in the air with her powers while she smiled brightly but the moment cameras rolled, she forgot half her lines.
“Cut.” the director sighed loudly as if she was the biggest burden during his entire career.
For the second attempt, the floating paper bag slammed directly into a fake mailbox. The content of the bag flying out.
“Cut.”
At each attempt, her face kept burning hotter and hotter while the executives started getting more and more demanding.
They told her how she should be less stiff, more charming and more natural. It made her even more nervous and the air sensed it.
By the fifth take, the curtains started to flutter violently even though the entire studio was closed. Her power directly worried the crew members, scared to see one of their cameras flying off and being broken.
On another part of the set, Bombsight shot his entrance. While the fake rocket descended via wires, at the same time many alarms blared across the set.
On cue, he launched upward and landed perfectly beside her in an effortless manner. The proximity and awe was enough for Chiara to completely miss her next line.
“Not with Bombsight around,” the small voice of the child actress next to her was enough to get her out of her stupor.
She blinked as horror was slowly overtaking her brain. Once again, she made a mistake and she already imagined how Vought would fire her for being such a bad actress.
She could only think about how they wasted their previous Compound V on her.
Meanwhile, Bombsight glanced sideways when she still didn't speak her line, and in one look, he understood what was happening.
He could hear how almost everyone was talking, their voices overlapping. It was her first shoot and they were already putting too much pressure on her. It was a wonder how she didn't break down yet.
They were all saying that she needed more confidence but he truly doubted that those were the words she needed to hear right now.
“Maybe everybody quit yappin’ at her for five seconds.” He said, finally speaking up.
His voice silenced everyone while new co-star stared at him with wide eyes. After all, she surely expected him to get mad at her for making this shoot longer than it was supposed to.
“We're simply trying to help,” an executive said with a strained laugh. Clearly, he didn't want to get on the bad side of someone who could rip him apart in seconds.
“Looks more like you’re trying to scare her to death.”
With that, he walked over to Chiara, lowering his voice so the Vought employees around them wouldn't overhear.
“You know the lines ?” He asked, yet his tone held no judgments because he already knew the answer. She confirmed his thoughts when she nodded quickly.
“Then forget everybody else.” he added as he casually adjusted the crooked bow at her collar that held her cape. It was made in translucent layers of fabric and embroidered with golden cloud patterns.
“Just talk.”
She didn't understand why, but thanks to him, something in her chest loosened and breathing started to become easier for her.
Maybe it was his words or the way he looked at her like she was a real person and not the product that was getting shaped by Vought.
She realized that it was because he was the first person to truly understand her. He went through the same thing, after all.
They started shooting again and surprisingly, the next takes went way better. The commercial was finally looking like something structured and not like the mess it was previously.
She was now walking through the streets, her floating groceries following her while humming a cheerful tone. Bombsight then landed beside as the fake enemy rocket flew overhead. They then saved the city just as dramatically.
For the final shot, the child actress looked up at the two heroes in awe and asked in wonder “Miss Windfall, aren't you scared ?”
Instinctively, she turned her head to look at the man standing next to her. The smile that stretched her lips wasn't an act, it was genuine.
“Not with Bombsight around.”
On cue, he smirked towards the camera lens that was focused on them while he rubbed his neck as if he truly was getting by her attention.
“Aw, shucks,” he said good-naturedly.
It was needless to say that executives loved this take. The smiles on their faces were enough to finally make Chiara relax completely.
But it seemed like the whole universe decided to rally against her because while everyone started to arrange the set, one assistant dropped a heavy lighting stand.
The crashing sound made her jump violently, taking her by surprise. Of course, her powers followed directly as wind bursted onto the set.
Scripts flew everywhere while the curtains were literally ripped away from the fake houses. A cameraman tripped over the cables on the ground as he tried to run away.
“I'm sorry,” she kept mumbling in pure panic. Her own powers were acting up and yet she felt completely helpless. In a way, she felt even more vulnerable now that she was a supe.
While almost everyone on set backed away from her, Bombsight did the opposite. He went toward her, not caring about how strong the wind was, about how his hair looked like a pure mess now and that the wind kept tearing at his leather coat.
When he finally stood in front of her, she could only send him a helpless look. Her own powers weren't listening to her and she didn't know how to control it.
“I can't stop it,” she murmured in a shaky tone while anxiety clawed at her chest.
“Yeah, you can,” he replied. Compared to her, his voice was calm. The difference between them was almost infuriating as she craved to be more like that.
Then, she felt his gloved hand wrap around her wrist and his thumb started to rub the inside of her wrist in a soothing way.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured. The nickname slipped naturally as if they had known each other for years.
Her breath hitched at his words but it was followed by a shaky inhale as she tried to focus on his soothing touch. The winds slowly weakened and at the next inhale, the scripts and curtains drifted down.
The set was completely silent as everyone on set looked at her nervously. Yet, Bombsight was the only one who didn't look at her like a ticking bomb.
Instead, he looked down at her with a curious look as if she was something he didn't expect.
__
The fake suburban street looked destroyed. The clothes used as laundry props were thrown across the street and some lights were completely shattered.
The only people left on set were the exhausted crew members who still had to clean everything.
Chiara decided to stay too. Bombsight noticed this after he left his lodge. He spent the last thirty minutes there having to listen to a Vought executive talking about his planning for the next few weeks.
The fact she was still there was unusual. Normally, the new talents vanished directly once the filming was done, dragged away by Vought or already too haughty to care about the poor crew members.
But she remained there, following the different crew members to whom she apologized constantly.
Curious about what he was seeing, he decided to stay there for a few more minutes so he could keep watching. He leaned slightly against a fake white fence as he plucked out a cigarette from a small metal case.
She was now crouched beside one of the assistants, gathering scattered papers with them.
“Miss Windfall, you don’t gotta—” the assistant started nervously. They knew how Vought could act up if they saw their precious new product doing mundane tasks.
“Chiara,” she corrected automatically without even thinking about her own words.
She didn't even notice the startled look from the assistant.
Instead, she reached upwards cautiously and a soft current of air followed, lifting the last papers gently off the floor and depositing them back on the nearby table. This time, she managed to control her powers.
“Thank you,” the assistant said quietly and the effect was immediate as Chiara brightened directly as if she was proud of doing something so basic.
At the sight, he frowned slightly around his cigarette. It was weird to him but he was now way too curious to stop observing what was happening.
Across the set, she moved to approach one of the technicians who tried to untangle cables.
“Wait, let me help, mister Feldman.”
At the sound of her voice, the older man stiffened visibly. Her expression dimmed at that, she knew that people were already afraid of her.
But then, she forced another smile and still decided to help him. A small breeze lifted the heavier cable carefully off the ground so the technician could reposition it easily.
“There,” she said softly. “Is that alright?” she looked at the man expectantly, hoping that she did good and that she didn't make everything worse.
“Yeah…thank you, miss.” the man replied with a wary tone but he still seemed grateful for the help. In turn, her smile stretched as she looked clearly relieved.
Bombsight crushed the ash from his cigarette thoughtfully as his gaze stayed stuck on her while she kept moving through the set. He noticed the way she remembered everybody on set calling them by names as she truly tried to get acquainted with them.
The scene got interesting again when one of the makeup girls accidentally dropped a tray of powder compacts near her. The powder made her sneeze loudly as it bursted towards her face.
Clouds of powder erupted around her at the same time, the makeup artists and herself ending up covered in beige powders. It was easier to see the impact on their clothes and hair. Chiara blinked in confusion at the sight of the shocked woman next to her as she understood that now, even her sneeze made her powers act up.
“Oh my God– I’m sorry–” she started, wanting to apologize to the poor woman who clearly wore brand new clothes for her work today. Now her red dress was covered in beige powder.
But another sneeze escaped her before she could even try to prevent it. This time, a gust of wind made the hat of a poor assistant fly away. The other crew members didn’t take any step back this time. Sure, her powers were acting up, but compared to previously, it wasn’t as violent.
But Chiara still covered her nose with her hand as if she could physically hold back any potential sneeze that threatened to escape her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her face growing red with embarrassment. “The powder just–” but she was quickly interrupted by the makeup girl who looked more guilty than scared by the supe next to her.
“No, miss, it was my fault—” the other woman said and it seemed to be enough for the supe to calm down a little as her face went from a bright to a more gentle pink.
Bombsight finally decided to move as he pushed himself off the fake white fence, crushing the rest of his cigarette under his boots. Even if people didn’t look afraid of Windfall right now, one of the assistants could end up messing everything up by saying something stupid.
He stopped beside her, taking in the way she was now covered in powder. But weirdly, it fitted her. It made her look more human and less like a Voughts product.
“That all you got? Couple sneezes?” he asked her with an amused smirk while she met his gaze with a look of disbelief at his words. The pink coloring once again her cheeks.
“Who knows what could have happened if I kept sneezing. I already broke a camera last time.”
“And Jenkins blew up a prop truck last month yet nobody threatened to exorcise or fire him.”
At his words, a startled laugh slipped from her lips before she could even prevent it. And it seemed that even her positive emotions affected her powers as a soft breeze went between them.
Noticing how her powers reacted once again to her emotions, she looked down in slight embarrassment. She already felt like she was an open book, but now, it felt way worse. She was easier to read now.
Yet, he couldn’t help but find that reaction cute and he hated that realization as soon as it crossed his mind. Because she was the perfect example of what Vought was trying to produce.
She was the sweet shy girl next door while he was the war hero. The perfect cliché American romance that could be seen in every recent movie. He should have known that Vought had prepared a PR relationship for one of them.
But then he remembered how she acted since the beginning of filming. She had been nervous the whole time, sure, but she also remembered every crew member’s name and she looked terrified by her own powers.
Even though she was being shaped into a product, she was still behaving like a person and he doubted that Vought would truly be able to change this. This new realisation made something shift inside him.
He couldn’t truly name it yet but he did know that he wanted to get to know her better.
“I Bet On Losing Dogs” (pt 7 of Everything About You)
Pairings: soldier boy x fem!self insert
Warnings: soldier boy is a whole warning on his own, a lot of angst, intravenous fluids, being given a substance while sleeping, not sexual though
Plot: Ben tries to get Ashley to understand him
Word Count: 1286
Ben wished he could say her words didn’t hurt his ego. He wished that he didn’t care and that they just went back to smoking and fucking. He wished that she understood him more so she could let him be and take him as he is. He wished for a lot of things. But none of it happened. And instead of waiting for one of his wishes to come true, as any smart or sane person would do, he decided that if she didn’t want to understand him, he’d make her understand him.
She was in his bed after a particularly exciting argument, asleep with her back turned to him. “You’re never going to be enough for me,” her words echoed in his mind again and again, reminding him that no matter what he does, he’s never enough for anyone. Maybe someone would feel bad for him if he wasn’t a major asshole. And if he wasn’t a major asshole, Ashley could’ve had a chance of having a normal life.
He rolled over and picked up what he was wearing before they got busy, and reached into the pocket, pulling out a vial of Compound V. Sure the chances of it killing her or ruining her life were high, but if it worked then maybe she would understand him. Ben wasn’t known for being rational. He was known for getting what he wanted, however. And a bunch of other stuff that didn’t matter.
He put the needle of the syringe into the vial and pulled back the plunger, the blue liquid filling up the base. He turned over, looking at her face, taking in the softness he never sees when she’s awake. Her breathing was steady, she was relaxed, almost peaceful. A part of him felt guilty, just a bit, that he was going to interrupt her sleep and bring her pain and change her life forever if not completely ending it.
Her right arm was closest to him, as she laid on her side with her left arm hanging over the edge of the mattress. So he took her right hand and looked at her arm searching for which vein to use. She stirred in her sleep, but didn’t awaken right away. So he went on, and punctured her skin, which did wake her up. But he gripped her arm right with his other hand so she couldn’t shake it.
“Ben, what the fuck are you doing?” She began to sit up, but he pushed the plunger down with his thumb, injecting her with the Compound V. She hit him with her free hand, and tried to push him off, but he made sure that not a drop was wasted. He finally let go and took the needle out and looked at her in silence, waiting for something to happen. “What the fuck did you d-“
Her sentence was interjected by her own screams of absolute pain. She hunched over, burying her face in the mattress. Ashley knew pain, she knew a lot of pain. It wasn’t just her chronic conditions like her joints or her migraines, although those contributed a lot to her overall suffering. The emergency room trips because she needed an organ removed or because a medication had a bad affect on her or because there always had to be something wrong with her body or the time she was convinced she was going to see God… none of it compared to the pain she felt in that moment. Maybe this time she would really see God.
Her hands held her head as her screams persisted, because the pain was too much to push down. “Make it stop!” she sobbed. But he couldn’t make it stop, even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. “Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.” Her head was pounding, the sharpest and strongest headache she’d ever had, which is saying a lot for a girl who had chronic migraines her entire life. She gripped her hair, choking out more words that Ben couldn’t hear over the shakiness of her voice and the fact that her words had been muffled by the bed sheets. She wailed for minutes and all Ben could do was watch.
When the pain subsided, she was still catching her breath, her sniffles and gasps for air being the indicator Ben needed to know she was still alive. He turned her over onto her back before picking her up, almost cradling her in his arms. He searched her face for any sign that she wasn’t in pain anymore as he brushed her hair back with his fingers and wiped her tears with his thumb.
“You’re okay now,” he whispered softly, kissing her temple. “I got you.”
She was taking the moment to recollect herself before confronting him, but his words fueled an anger she didn’t know she could be capable of having. She pushed herself away from him and rolled off the bed, stumbling to her feet. Her entire body was still trembling as it was recovering from the excruciating pain she just endured. He looked her up and down, and she still looked the same, she still looked like his Ashley. Her eyes, her lips, her legs, her chest… she immediately grabbed her clothes off the floor, a sudden wave of self consciousness crashing against her.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” She scrambled to put her clothes back on as he looked down, not out of respect, but because he couldn’t look her in the eyes when she was so mad at him. “What- why would you do this to me?”
“You said I’d never change or be enough for you, so I decided to show you what you need to learn. You don’t understand who the fuck I am. I don’t need to change,” he finally looked up at her, devoid of any feelings. It was almost scary how he was able to just flip the switch and feel nothing at all about what he just did. “I’m god damn Soldier Boy, people want me, people love me-“
“Because they don’t know you. But I do, and I hate you. I’ll never understand how someone could be so fucking awful,” she spit the words out with a fiery venom.
“Fuck you, live as long as I have and you’ll fucking understand. Have the fucking Russians fuck with you and you’ll fucking understand. I didn’t do anything wrong, I did you a fucking favor.” He stood up and took a step towards her, but stopped as he saw her take a few steps back away from him.
“A favor? You call talking my life away from me a favor? You call possibly killing me or ruining me a favor? You call putting me through that pain a fucking favor? Fuck off.” She turned on her heels and stormed out of his door.
“You’ll be back tomorrow, you work for me!” he yelled after her before the door slammed shut.
But she didn’t show up the next day, or the day after that. She didn’t even give a notice or anything that she quit, she just left without a word. Homelander asked his father if he wanted him to do something about it.
“No, if she needs her space, give her her space. She’ll be back for me, and I’ll be ready,” he told his son. He knew what kind of crazy shit Homelander would do, and he wanted none of that near his Ashley. “We’ll smooth things out the next time I see her, she’ll admit I'm right.”
But there was no next time. She didn’t come back, and Ben realizes he may have lost her forever.
[previous part]
“Using You” (pt 6 of Everything About You)
Pairings: soldier boy x fem!self insert
Warnings: It's Soldier Boy, he is a warning on his own. Crude language, sexism, absolutely inappropriate, sexual, and disrespectful.
Plot: Ashley doesn’t believe Soldier Boy could be a better man and that’s why they can’t be anything more than what they are now
Word Count: 962
She didn’t know what happened to Firecracker, and she didn’t want to care. Firecracker was a deeply flawed, and terrible human being. Framed the reverend as a groomer as if she isn’t a full on predator. But the more time Ashley (Ben’s Ashley, not vice president Ashley) spent at Vought, the more she understood how unhinged Homelander really was. It was terrifying, and the only reason Homelander hasn’t picked up on her nerves is because he’s convinced she’s in love with Ben.
“What happened to Firecracker?” Ashley asked, crossing her arms.
“She probably got fired. I told Homelander about us and I guess he fired her. She’s Fired-Cracker now,” he chuckled at his own joke while Ashley glared at him.
“Nobody has seen her, she hasn’t come back to work, and a lot of the higher ups closer to Homelander have been hush hush about it around people like me, so are you going to tell me what happened or not?”
The smile faded from his face, and he sat, looking up at her. “Okay, look, I didn’t think he’d kill her. You want honesty? She said she wanted to stop, which I was already planning on it, wanted to focus on my favorite toy.” He tried to flash a smile but her face wasn’t budging, and buttering her up working.
“I’m your toy? You think you’re something more than a pretty face with a dick to use?”
“You wouldn’t have been jealous if I was just a dildo to you. So I handled it. I figured if I told Homelander about it, I get on his good side and maybe we see her less. I didn’t think he’d kill her, but she’s out of the picture now. You should be happy.”
Ashley pulled away and turned around, pacing the floor. It’s what she did a lot, working for Soldier Boy. There was no reason to feel bad for Firecracker, but there’s every reason to be scared about who else Homelander would kill over not believing he was God. It was terrifying working at Vought at this point. She didn’t even know why she stuck around. And then she looked at him.
“Happy? I-“ she stopped herself, not knowing if Homelander was in the building at that moment or not. But Ben saw the fear in her eyes and nodded. “You had sex with her, and then got her killed, and you don’t feel bad? She talked to you, she trusted you.”
“What does that matter for, was she a good person?”
Ashley opened her mouth to say something but immediately stopped. “She wasn’t. She was a pedophile actually.”
“Then why the fuck does it matter?” He looked up at her. His tone was annoyed but there was a hint of worry in his eyes, maybe a worry that she doesn’t like him anymore. Although if you asked her, she’d say she never liked him.
“It matters because… because what if she was someone else, someone who wasn’t capable of doing that? You didn’t know she was a pedophile so she easily could’ve been innocent.” Ashley’s voice was trembling. She worried that Ben could turn on her too, that his loyalty was with Homelander.
“She was working for Homelander, she wasn’t innocent.” Ben rolled his eyes.
“But what if it was someone who didn’t work directly under Homelander? Would you have said something? Where the fuck does your loyalty lie?” Not a part of her was still, not her voice, not her hands, not her legs.
“My loyalty lies with me, and me only. I’m not Homelander’s bitch, I’m not working for him,” Ben argued, standing up.
“So what happens when I don’t serve you anymore, when I have nothing left to offer you?” Ashley begged, lips quivering.
Ben took a deep breath, and took her hands in his once again. The features on his face softened as he searched her eyes.
“That won’t happen. I promise.” He pulled her into his arms.
Ben didn’t know what broke in him, what got into him. Maybe it’s the times she fucked his ass with a sparkly dildo. Maybe it’s all the times she called him out and put him in his place. He’s gotten softer, there’s a part of him trying to be a tolerable man.
“I’m not a bad man,” he attempted to explain as he pulled away to look at her face.
“But you are,” she frowned. “Just because you’ve gotten better at pretending you’re not a fucking douche doesn’t erase everything you’ve done. You can’t ever start again with a clean state.”
“Hey, don’t say that. I couldn’t be a better man before, I couldn’t be enough then, but let me be enough for you.”
She looked up at him, absolutely confused.
“Enough for me? Why would you want to be enough for me?”
“Because I can,” he said. “I just- let me show you.”
“You just want to prove something? Did I hurt your ego? Well fucking deal with it. You’re never going to be enough for me. We have sex, I tolerate you. But you’re a massive piece of shit and I’d be stupid to ever trust someone like you could change.”
“Someone like me?” He pushed her off.
“A bigot. A fucking awful, pathetic excuse of a supe.”
He furrowed his eyebrows.
“You don’t get to fucking talking to me like that,” he threatened. But despite the anger in his voice, there wasn’t any real threat. The human bomb wasn’t even detonated.
“Why don’t you kill me then? Not even a spark? What’s the problem, old man?”
His breathing got heavier, and finally he grabbed her and pushed her onto the bed.
“Watch who you call old man,” he said, before capturing her lips in a kiss.
[previous part] [next part]
“High Definition” (pt5 of Everything About You)
Pairings: Soldier Boy x fem!self insert
Warnings: It's Soldier Boy, he is a warning on his own. Mentions of pegging, mentions of BPD, and being “crazy.”
Plot: Soldier Boy listening to songs he missed out on because Ashley made him a playlist
Word Count: 1566
Ashley was in just a t-shirt, something Soldier Boy had because he can’t just be in his suit all the time, especially if he wanted to go out for a drink without being recognized. The shirt fell just past her hips. She was on his bed, jumping and dancing, as he watched. It was after hours, and he told her to stay the night. She’s been showing him songs he’s missed out. They’ve watched plenty of movies she’s wanted him to see, and she made a whole playlist for him. He would’ve gotten musical whiplash if he was focusing on the music as much as he focused on her hips swaying.
From Slipknot’s “Psychosocial”, to Plain White T’s “Hey There Delilah,” to Papa Roach’s “Last Resort,” she sang along and danced in just his t-shirt. He didn’t know a girl like her could scream with so much anger just singing to these songs. Then it was “Pretty Fly (For A White Guy” by The Offspring, “Break Stuff” by Limp Bizkit, “Chop Suey!” by System of a Down, and finally, “A Thousand Miles” by Vanessa Carlton. With every jump and twist, her shirt rode up slightly, and it drove him wild.
Of course they smoked again, and got high, and that’s why she had let loose. It was definitely a change, not arguing then getting in bed. He chuckled, pulling her arms gently.
“Come here,” he told her. “You’re telling me you like all that screaming music? You? I thought you’d be too soft for it.”
She giggled for a moment, before sitting down and straddling him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and looked at her eyes. They were red, but there was something there that wasn’t there before.
“Me? Soft? I don’t think anyone who has to deal with you can be soft. They wouldn’t survive you,” she teased, running her fingers through his hair. “Plus, if I was soft, would have I been able to peg you?”
“One time-“ he started but she immediately corrected him.
“Three times.”
“Which we said we wouldn’t bring up,” he reminded her, warning in his tone.
“Until it happens again.”
“Enough of that,” his grip around her tightened, but not to hurt her. He wanted to bring her closer. “You never told me about your tattoos. What’s that one?” He pointed to the one on her shoulder. It was a heart with an arrow going through it, the letters “Y/N” inside the heart.
“Oh, that. Uh, there’s a band I listen to, 5 Seconds of Summer. One of their songs has a lyric ‘I got your name tattooed in an arrow heart,’ and the Y/N is used in fanfictions for the words ‘your name,’” she explained to him.
“Fanficion?”
“Like… like if someone was a fan of you, they could write a whole fictional story, maybe even a book, about you. And some fanfics are self insert, meaning the reader imagines them in the situation,” she continued to explain, her cheeks heating up. How does one tell people they permanently branded themselves as a fangirl? “And instead of having something like ‘your name’ or ‘insert name here’ they use ‘Y/N.’”
He raised his eyebrows, holding on a chuckle. He traced down from that one to her other tattoo immediately below it. It was some citrusy slice, with juice and the chemical structure of dopamine underneath it, with the words ‘High Definition’ on the bottom.
“This one? Is that a lemon?” he asked.
“Orange. Because an orange is on the album cover. This is for a song called ‘High Definition’ where the lyrics are ‘you’re squeezing out my dopamine.”
“You drew these up? Yourself?”
“Yeah, all of them, except the ghost one. My friend picked that out for me. It was ten dollars, we were in Las Vegas.”
“Hm.” He nodded and traced his finger to the rocket ship on her right forearm. “This one? It says ‘Sail along, let your path unfold.’ What the fuck is that about? More songs?”
“Yeah, my friend has an astronaut with the lyrics ‘Carry on, let the good times roll’ over the tether. So she’s got the astronaut tethered to the rocket ship. Since we’re long distance friends, it’s like we’re still connected.”
“Ah, so some sentimental shit,” he said softly. He wasn’t great with words. He doesn’t want to be great with words. But he wanted to know every inch of her. “And the angel wings with the sword?”
“Similar to the tarot card, three of swords. They go through a heart, it represents heartbreak, loss, pain. I didn’t mean it in like an emo way, I just like tarot cards.”
“Emo?”
“It’s like some of those whiny sad rock songs I showed you, but it’s got a whole subculture with like clothes and everything. Short for emotional, or whatever.”
He nodded again and his gaze went to her other arm. There was something like a puppet, but not exactly one. He took her arm and brought it closer. A mannequin, and it was juggling three masks: one happy, one angry, and one sad. He looked at it for a while, as if he wanted to figure out what it could mean instead of just asking her.
“You feel like a fucking puppet?” he asked. His tone wasn’t harsh, it was curious.
“Not exactly. It’s about my borderline personality disorder. The mannequin is me and my identity issues I guess. I’m a blank slate until people dress me up in what they want, and the masks are the mood swings. They happen quickly, so it feels like I’m juggling my feelings.”
“Hm, you didn’t seem that crazy to me,” the words slipped from his mouth. He’s not one to show remorse either so he just looks up at her, waiting for her to say something.
“Really? All this time with me and you didn’t think I’m crazy?” She tilted her head. “I can be very crazy, and it’s nothing to do with the borderline. I got the tattoo when I started working on myself. It was like a reminder. The worst was a few years ago. And I didn’t go crazy. I went quiet, and I hurt myself. I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore. I only go crazy if someone drives me crazy.”
A subtle smirk forms on his face.
“So I don’t drive you crazy?” he asks, bringing his hands back to her waist.
“You do, you annoy the fuck out of me and then we have sex. And you let me peg you. And you like it.” She leaned in and nibbled on his ear.
“That’s not the crazy I’m talking about. I mean throwing things, screaming, being a crazy bitch.”
“I haven’t done that stuff since therapy. And since breaking up with my ex boyfriend. Borderline is a lot easier to manage when you’re not attached to anyone.”
“You’re not attached to me?” he feigned offense. “Oh sweetheart, you wound me.”
“Yeah, getting attached to you.” She rolled her eyes. Don't worry, I could never be that stupid. What we have now is fine, it’s perfect, actually.”
The small smirk disappeared from his face, but it was too small for her to pick up on. She did, however, notice when his hands dropped from her waist.
“I don’t mean it like that,” she took his hands in hers. “But we argue a lot. We have nothing in common.”
“We have some things in common,” he mumbled.
“Other than sexually? Thought so. It’s just healthier that way. I’m not putting myself through that pain, especially when I know you won’t love me like that. You’re possessive. That’s all there is to it.” She put his hands back on her waist. “Things are great now, Ben. I don’t wanna ruin it.”
He looked up back at her eyes when she said his name.
“Well shit. You said my name. Not sir, not Soldier Boy. You called me Ben,” he teased her, poking her stomach.
“Don’t make it a big thing,” she shrugged, rolling her eyes.
“I’m not making it a big thing. It’s not a big thing for me. It’s a big thing for you.” He pulled her closer so her chest was against his.
“I don’t want it to be a big thing for anyone. So it’s not. I’ve been in your ass, I think I should be calling you Ben.”
“You have not been in my ass. Your dildo has.”
“I’m just saying. It’s not a big deal.”
“If you say so.”
She stayed there, in his arms, as they just stayed there in silence. The conversation didn’t need to go on. He loved the attention, the effect he had on her. She was usually dealing with his bullshit, putting him in his place. It was a slight change, not many people cared enough to notice. But she noticed, and he noticed, and that’s all that really mattered anyway.
He finally had leverage, though. No matter how much he can try to change, he’s still the same Ben he’s always been. He needed control, needed to come out on top, he had something to prove. And while he could admit it was sort of sexy the way she handled him, and how much he thought about being a better person, it wasn’t enough. He needed leverage, and he found it. Her feelings for him.
[previous part] [next part]
"Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?" (pt4 of Everything About You)
Pairings: Soldier Boy x fem!self insert
Warnings: It's Soldier Boy, he is a warning on his own. Crude language, sexism, absolutely inappropriate, sexual, and disrespectful. Also smut, lots of it.
Plot: Ashley may or may not be jealous about Soldier Boy and Firecracker
Word Count: 1636
Soldier Boy was on Truthbomb earlier that month. He and Firecracker compared guns, and details, details, they were in bed together. And then they had sex again, and again. Ashley didn’t care, there’s no reason to care. Just because they fucked a few times since that first time, doesn’t mean it mattered. They smoked, they fought, then they fucked. That’s all there was to it. It wasn’t a love story, it wasn’t anything special, it was a way to “agree to disagree.” She didn’t care, she couldn’t care. This job meant too much to her, she couldn’t go back to minimum wage.
Soldier Boy noticed though. She started agreeing with him, even if she didn’t actually agree with him. She got him his weed, managed his schedule, got him his food, and that’s it. She hasn’t even gotten high with him unless he absolutely insisted, and even then she remained sober enough to not end up back in bed with him. He knew something was up. She didn’t look him in the eye anymore, not that she did much before. But at least when they smoked together she looked at him. He decided to finally see what was bothering her.
“What’s gotten up your ass?” he asked her.
“What are you talking about?” She kept her eyes on the paperwork in front of her, straightening them out so they looked neat and even. It was clearly just a way to look busy.
“I’m talking about you not fucking looking at me when I’m talking to you,” his voice raised slightly, as he grabbed her chin and made her look up at him.
“You have my attention, what do you want?”
“I want you to tell me why you don’t look at me anymore, why you’ve been quiet. If you need more weed then take it when I fucking offer it to you. I got some other stuff too,” his voice dropped low, his fingers tightening on her chin.
“Sorry, do you not want me to focus on my job?” she asked, her sarcasm sharp and clear.
“You know what I’m fucking talking about, don’t play stupid. Either speak up or get the fuck out.”
“I don’t have a problem, sir. I just want to focus on my job and go home at the end of the day.” She looked up in his eyes, hoping he’d see the sincerity in her. She wasn’t lying, that was definitely how she started treating work.
“Do you have a problem with me fucking Firecracker? Is that what it is? You’re getting jealous. It’s cute, sweetheart, but I’m not someone to get attached to,” he finally let go of her chin, chuckling.
“I’m not jealous. There’s no issue because there’s nothing between you and me. I don’t care who you fuck, I couldn’t care less actually.” She put the papers down and crossed her arms. “But if you’re getting your fix elsewhere, then I can just focus on my job. I don’t need to waste my energy.”
“Wasting your energy, that’s what we’re calling it now?” He raised his eyebrow.
“Yeah, what else would you call it?”
“Good sex,” he answered.
“If it’s so good why do you need to get high to fuck me?” She started pacing the room, not necessarily anywhere specific, but just to move.
“I’m high every day, why does that matter?”
“Because you can just fuck her, and with me you have to smoke and build the tension by pissing me off and you can’t just fuck me to fuck me. You need an excuse, like the weed, or the fighting. What does she have that I don’t? Is it her stupid power? Is it because she’s older? Because you guys agree on things?” She finally stopped pacing and looked up at him.
“Sure she’s easier to talk to but that’s not why I fuck her. Do I look like someone who needs therapy to you?”
“I’m not sure you want me to answer that,” she told him, still angry.
A hint of offense flashed on his face, not necessarily hurt or anger, just that he felt mildly insulted.
“It fucking looks like you’re jealous.”
“I’m not!” she snapped. “I’m not jealous, but you needing excuses to hook up with me kinda fucking bruises my ego. I’m not skinny, I’m not tall, I’m not… I just want to be desirable. I want to feel hot, or sexy. I don’t want you to have sex with me just because it’s convenient and we’re both high and the arguing turns you on.”
“You think I make anyone feel good about themselves? All this time working for me and you think I’m the kind of pussy who wants to make sure you feel desired, or than anyone I’m fucking feels desired?” He walked up to her only to look down on her.
“No, it’s supposed to just… you know. Like, desire is supposed to be natural. If you didn’t have to get high to have sex with me then it wouldn’t be a problem.” Her voice got softer. She wasn’t backing down on her point but it was not just about him. It was also about her and how she felt about herself. “She’s easier to talk to?”
“She doesn’t argue. But again, I don’t need a fucking therapist after sex. She just doesn’t judge me as much as you do. All you do is complain and while it’s hot to see you worked up sometimes a man needs some peace and quiet and doesn’t need a woman yapping in his ear,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, as if his words were reassuring and meant to comfort her. His hand then went to cup her face. “But that’s doesn’t mean I need to get high to fuck you.”
“How sweet,” she said, flatly.
He just picked her up and threw her over his shoulder before walking her back to his apartment in the tower.
“Hey, put me down! People are staring!” She yelled as she hit his back with her fists over and over.
“Women, am I right? Must be on her period!” he said to the staff passing by. He opened his door, carried her in, and kicked the door shut with his foot.
“Put me down, asshole!” She kicked and kicked.
“Fine.” She dropped to the floor with a thud. “I put you down.”
She stood up and smoothed out her shorts. Her face was red, her heart was thumping, as she looked up at him. “What was that for?”
“I wanted to bring you here,” he shrugged.
“For what?”
He picked her up again, this time by the waist, and carried her to his bed, and instead of just tossing her on it, he kept her legs around his waist. He laid her down gently, following her on the bed. He didn’t give her a moment to process, he just went in and kissed her. His lips trailed down to her jaw, then to her neck. He stood up and shed his suit as she watched. He crawled back on top and ripped her top open, some of the buttons coming off.
“Hey! That wasn’t cheap,” she pouted.
“Shut up, I’ll buy you a new one.” His hands slid down to her shorts, quickly unbuttoning them and pulling them down.
He felt his way back up her leg to her panties before yanking them down and throwing them to the side. He didn’t even bother taking her bra off, he just wanted to be inside her. Excitement built up in her stomach, butterflies fluttering as he positioned himself between her folds. And then he pushed in.
One of his hands went to her waist while the other was next to her head. She gripped on tight to his arms. He rocked his hips with a sudden and sharp force, burying his face in her neck. As he inhaled, he took in the scent of something sweet and citrusy. It was bright and inviting, the gourmand fragrance only feeding his hunger for her. He started biting her neck softly, making her whine quietly as he sucked on her neck. He only pulled away to look at the marks he left on her before claiming her lips with his. Her legs were wrapped around his waist tightly like vines.
“Just like that,” he muttered against her lips.
He moved both of his hands to her back and lifted her up to be closer to him. Her arms went around his neck for support. His pupils were blown from the rush of dopamine, overcome with pleasure. Deep, low grunts rumbled from his throat. As her chest pressed against his, he lost it. His hands dug deeper in her skin as he brought her up and down to match the rocking of his hips. Every time he pulled her down, he thrusted in, the force stronger than before.
“Fuck!” she whined, gripping his hair.
She clenched around him and pushed him over the edge. His low grunts became loud and desperate as they reached their highs together. He slowed his pace as they came down together. Then he finally pulled out, causing her to whimper quietly. He laid her back down gently, before lying next to her. Like always, he took out a cigarette and lit it, but this time he offered it to her. He held it to her lips, and she took a drag, then took one himself.
“So, you can have sex with me without getting high… think I can peg you without getting much next or is that still something we both gotta smoke before we do?” she looked up at him, mischief sparkling on her eyes and cheeks tinted pink.
“Don’t push it,” he said, but there was no bite behind his words.
[previous part] [next part]
"I Hate" (pt3 of Everything About You)
Pairings: Soldier Boy x fem!self insert
Warnings: sex, smut, dirty and rough sex, problematic age gap, arguing, hate sex, a little bit of bodyshaming, and medical trauma. It's Soldier Boy, he is a warning on his own. Crude language, sexism, absolutely inappropriate, sexual, and disrespectful.
Plot: Soldier Boy has things to say about Ashley’s body. He has no idea what she’s capable of.
Word Count: 1,183
Getting high with Soldier Boy became a routine for Ashley, and it was something at work she could actually look forward to. Being a personal assistant at Vought wasn’t a normal full time job, it became her life. If Soldier Boy was working out of town, so was she. If he was on set for something all day, so was she. If he was working late nights, so was she, except they’d then get high and not work. His own suite in the Vought Tower became her second home, only going home when Soldier Boy had called it a day. And sometimes he didn’t call it a day until 2am. There was no room for a social life outside of work so she almost felt like leaving her life in Los Angeles for New York was the right choice. Almost. What was the use of having the money she was making if she couldn’t use it?
Getting high with Soldier Boy or talking to other assistants at Vought was the only bit of a social life she could have at this point. He didn’t want an assistant with a stick up her ass, so he insisted she got high with him. And it made the work day a little bit easier. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t still annoying. He loved arguing with her, he always picked fights. It’s almost like he got off to it. She couldn’t stand it, she couldn’t stand him. On top of working at a company that platforms the most dangerous and terrible people ever she had to deal with Soldier Boy, and his misogynistic remarks, and his stupid opinion, and talking about every sexual encounter he’s ever had in his life.
“Have you thought about losing weight?” he had asked her one night. They were sitting on the couch together smoking again.
“What?” she looked at him in disbelief. Not many things he says caught her off guard anymore, it was actually easy to get used to his foul mouth after a couple of days. But this was different.
“Your weight, aren’t you going to try to drop a few pounds?”
“Did you look through my files again? Did you see my health check up? Because that’s not-“
“Yes, I did. Now why don’t you get off your fucking ass and do something about it?”
“Excuse me? Do you think I have the time when I’m here working for you? And even if I had the time, you’ve probably seen in my file that I have a couple of autoimmune disorders,” she explained to him. She didn’t know why she did, she didn’t owe him anything. He was being an ass and she couldn’t even understand what prompted him to say it.
“Sounds like excuses to me,” he snorted.
His words were almost sobering. She sat up straight, looking him in the eyes. Her hair was a mess, her shirt wrinkled, and eyes red from all the smoking.
“They’re not excuses, I’m sick, I’m sick for the rest of my life and nothing's going to change that. You think I enjoy being 24 with fucking rheumatoid arthritis? You think having back pain to the point I can’t breathe is something I want to use as an excuse? I want to be like every other person my age out there and I can’t be. I don’t get to enjoy my youth but you don’t get it because you don’t fucking age!”
She stood up to look down at him. It made her feel bigger, more in control of the situation. Tears welled up in her eyes. She didn’t let much get to her anymore, even with her borderline personality disorder. If she didn’t care about the person, their words didn’t matter. Usually. She could cut her feelings, turn them off. But this was different. This was years of medical neglect and pain building up. It didn’t matter who was saying these things, it mattered that she heard them enough already.
Soldier Boy couldn’t let her have control of this situation. He wanted the control. So he stood up and grabbed her by the arm with a bruising grip. She gasped and looked up at him.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Just, stop crying. Am I some fucking asshole because I think you can do more? Is that offensive now? Is that how sensitive everyone’s gotten?”
“No, it’s you insisting I’m lazy when I’m not. It’s you telling me to lose weight. What? Am I too fat to look at? You want a pretty assistant?” she attempted to pull from him but he didn’t let go.
“What the fuck are you talking about, you look great. I’m sure those fucking tits alone have a lot of weight, and that’s a good thing. I just want an assistant who can keep up with me,” he explained. She couldn’t tell if this was his sad attempt at comforting her or something else. “If you can’t keep up with me, let me know so I can get someone who can.”
The thought of the highest paying job she’s ever had, despite it still being relatively low paying, being ripped away from her scared her. She didn’t think she could keep up with him. He’s a supe, and she can’t even keep up with normal people. But this job was too important for her to be honest with him.
“I can keep up,” she declared with feigned confidence.
“Are you sure, sweetheart?” He leaned in closer to her.
“I can keep up with you. I’m sure.” She got up in his face, challenging him.
“Then prove it to me.”
Maybe it was the cannabis haze, maybe it was the blood pumping from the argument, or maybe it was just attraction, but she jumped on him and kissed him. He immediately let go of her arm to catch her, as he stumbled back onto the couch. He kissed her back with a desperate hunger. One hand went to her hair as the other remained on her waist, while her hands held his face. His lips were rich of booze and weed, and it drove Ashley crazy. She slipped her tongue inside his mouth, surprising her with the little display of dominance. Their tongues pushed against each other, tangling in with one another.
The warmth in her core grew like a roaring fire, and she pulled away to take off his shirt vest and shrug off the top part of his suit. before crashing her lips against his once again. As their lips locked in on each other, his hands felt her body as they traveled to her shirt to slowly unbutton her top. As the last button was undone, she shrugged her top off and threw it to the side, softly humming against his lip. His hands went to her back to unclasp her bra. Once that was off too, he pulled away, staring at her chest.
“They’re fucking huge,” he said, before grabbing one and putting it in his mouth. As his lips sucked and his tongue swirled, she whimpered. The sensation was a mixture of pain, pleasure, and something a bit ticklish. His mouth popped as he released her nipple.
Her hands immediately went down to pull off more of his suit. It was a lot and she wanted all of it off at that exact moment. She couldn’t take it anymore. Her hands moved fast, which is a lot for a girl with rheumatoid arthritis. She actually was impressing herself. As soon as his suit was completely off, she pulled off her boots, and dropped her shorts and panties, before getting back on top of him, straddling him.
“You sure you can handle me, sweetheart?” he asked her, giving her an out before they both cross a line they can never uncross.
“Oh I’m sure,” she said, sinking down immediately, taking all of him. She let out a loud whimper, but she didn’t hold back from riding him like she meant it. She came down on him hard, causing him to groan loudly.
“Fuck, just like that,” he gasped, holding her ass. “Show me what a good girl you are, show me how a real girl does it.”
“Do you ever shut up?” she complained, putting her hand on his mouth.
His eyes grew dark, and he stood up, picking her up with him, before he walked over to his bed and threw her on the mattress. He crawled on top of her. “Big mistake. Girl or not, I’m the one in charge. I don’t listen to anyone.” He slammed back inside her and her back arched, pressing her chest against his as he grabbed her waist and thrusted hard into her.
The room was felt with his groans and her whimpers, his grunts and her cries. They were pained cries, not completely at least. They were cries of pleasure. But she covered her mouth, scared someone could hear.
“Hey, Homelander isn’t in the building right now. You’re safe. But are you okay?”
She looked up at him, as he slowed down. He wanted her to prove to him she can take him, but he didn’t want her hurting herself to prove it. He wanted to know if she could truly take him.
“Of course I’m okay, don’t go soft on me now,” she taunted him.
That was enough to let him lose control and continue fucking her with a brutal force. He pushed her legs up, allowing himself to go in deeper, keeping her legs spread enough so her clit was exposed to the friction and force. Her whimpers and cries became high pitched whines as she got closer and closer to the edge. And then finally, as if the universe were telling them this was supposed to happen, they reached their highs at the same time. Her legs wrapped around his waist, not wanting him to pull out. He didn’t complain, it felt great to release all that pent up tension into her. His thrusts slowed down to a stop, before he laid next to her.
As he reached for his pack of cigarettes and his lighter, he told her, “If I knock you up, just get rid of it, okay?”
“I’m on the pill,” she said.
“Yeah but that’s not made for super semen.”
“We’ll see. Don’t think this means I like you. You’re still an asshole, and I still hate everything about you. Well almost everything.” She covered herself with the blanket as he lit his cigarette.
“The feeling is mutual. You’re a great fuck, but not much else about you.” He offered her a cigarette and she took it, letting him light it for her.
[previous part] [next part]
“Valley Girl” (pt 2 of everything about you)
Pairings: Soldier Boy x fem!self insert
Warnings: It's Soldier Boy, he is a warning on his own. Crude language, sexism, absolutely inappropriate, sexual, and disrespectful. Racial stereotypes directed at main character.
Plot: Soldier Boy being rude and annoying about Ashley being Assyrian and from Los Angeles.
Word Count: 1008
That’s how it went for the first two weeks. Ashley brought him his weed, got him drinks, and listened to his misogyny or racism or whatever bullshit spewing from his mouth. Ashley was known as the other OTHER Ashley, or as Soldier Boy calls her, the most useless Ashley. It’s not that he truly thought she was useless, in fact she had more balls than the Vice President. She doesn’t kiss his ass, and sometimes she might even talk back, just a little bit. But she was young, and to Soldier Boy, that meant she was useless.
“Twenty-four, no plans on marrying a man, and no plan on using your body and face to get on TV? What a waste, you’re fucking useless,” he had told her while he was smoking.
It’s not like his words affected her, they lived in a time where none of what he said mattered. She knew she didn’t want kids and marrying a man sounded like a nightmare. It did piss her off though, as most of his general opinions and statements did. Like even from his time, he had to be crossing a bunch of lines, right?
It was another Monday, the third Monday of working for Soldier Boy. She came in a sleeveless button up and short sleeve blazer, like she always did.
“Hello sir,” she greeted him, not looking up at him. She had her clipboard in her hand, which Soldier Boy insisted on, because he couldn’t possibly comprehend an iPad.
“What are you?” he asked her, as he places his index finger under her chin and titles her head up. His eyes scanned her face before landing on her eyes.
“A girl?” she answered, her tone uncertain. Uncertain of her answer or why he even asked, who knows?
“No shit. I mean where are you from? You’re not white, and your white name is not fooling anyone. I saw your file, your last name isn’t white either.” He squinted his eyes, as if that would help him figure out her ethnicity.
“Los Angeles,” she responded flatly. “I moved here after quitting my dream of being a therapist. Oh, were you trying to ask me about my ethnicity? Why didn’t you just say so?”
He rolled his eyes and let go of her chin, growing tired of her attitude.
“I’m Assyrian.”
“Syrian? Like Arab? Shouldn’t you be wearing one of those head scarves or at least not have your fucking tits out like that? You’re showing a lot for an Arab girl.” His eyes dropped from her face to her chest, and he didn’t bother with subtlety as he gestured to her chest with hands.
“No, I’m Assyrian. Non Arab. And personally I’m not religious. And my ‘tits’ aren’t out.” They weren’t, not spilling out of her top at least. Her chest was big, so even though the shirt is buttoned up to a reasonable height, from Soldier Boy's perspective, they were practically on display. That made her a bit self conscious, so she began to button up her top, but he grabbed her hand to stop her.
“I wasn’t complaining about your tits, they’re nice. Just surprised that you come from that culture dressed like this. At least you’re not a terrorist.”
Her jaw dropped but she immediately gathered up enough composure for a comeback.
“Talking about terrorists when you’re practically a walking bomb with the blast that comes out of your chest is wild.”
She may have crossed a line. She practically compared him to a terrorist. No, she actually quite literally compared him to a suicide bomber with a bomb strapped to their chest. So the confidence and anger on her face drained immediately as the words came out of her mouth, and she waited for a reaction. And then he started to chuckle. She just watched in confusion as he chuckled.
“Fuck, doll face, you can actually be funny. You just need to take that fucking stick out of your tight ass,” he said, patting her back. “And I got just the thing.”
He pulled out a pre-rolled joint, lit it, and took a hit before offering it to her. She looked at it for a moment. She was working, she shouldn’t get high. However she was not going to say no to getting high with her boss at work. So she took it from his fingers, hit the joint, and they both sat down together to get high.
They passed it back and forth in silence for a while. There was about a foot of space in between them, they didn’t bother looking at each other, they just sat there and smoked. Ashley was more of an edibles person but she’s never going to say no to free weed. She did wonder how Soldier Boy would react to weed vapes. Then her mind went down a rabbit hole of what would be new for Soldier Boy, until he interrupted her.
“So you’re from Los Angeles? Is that why you sound like a fucking airhead?” he asked her. He didn’t mean it in a rude way, not really. He’s just naturally rude, some would say.
“You mean like a valley girl?” She raised her eyebrow.
“A valley girl? Is that what they call it?”
“Sort of. Was more popular in the 80’s, 90’s, and early 21st century. You had to have heard the song Valley Girl. Or at least seen the movie with Nick Cage in it? They both came out in the early 80’s,” she explained to him, finally looking at him. He was already looking back at her. He thought for a moment, as if trying to remember if he’s ever seen it.
“Yes, yes, I’ve seen it. But I don’t really remember much of it,” he eventually answered.”
“Well, then it seems like you need to rewatch it. I will tell you, we don’t talk exactly like that now, but like, close enough,” she told him, reaching for the remote. “Since we’re sitting here, getting high, might as well watch Valley Girl.”
[previous part] [next part]
Masterlist
Mainly just supernatural… mainly Dean.
Last Updated: 6/01/2026 <3
TikTok: notwarriorsdean
Wattpad: _itsafangirlthing_
Twitter: notwarriorsdean
✰ Younger Sibling Winchester ✰:
• Withdrawals(Sam and Dean x younger sister!reader)
• No Doctors(Sam and Dean x younger sibling!reader)
• Emergency Room(Sam and Dean x younger sister!reader)
• Audio-Therapy(Dean x younger sister!reader)
✰ Dean Winchester ✰:
• Dean’s Not Dean(Demon!Dean x female reader)
• Animal Pt 1(Dean x female reader)
• Animal Pt 2(Dean x female reader)
• A Game Of Angels & Devils(Demon!Dean X female angel!reader)
•Written Porn(Dean Winchester)
• Daylight(Dean Winchester x female vampire!reader)
✰ Castiel ✰
• Five Gum(Castiel x gn autistic!reader, platonic)
✰ Destiel ✰
• Bring Me to Life(Castiel X demon!dean)
✰ Everything About You series ✰
• Everything About You: Soldier Boy (Soldier Boy x fem!self insert)
• Everything About You: Valley Girl (Soldier Boy x fem!self insert)
• Everything About You: I Hate (Soldier Boy x fem!self insert)
• Everything About You: Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High? (Soldier Boy x fem!self insert)
• Everything About You: High Definition (Soldier Boy x fem!self insert)
• Everything About You: Using You (Soldier Boy x fem!self insert)
• Everything About You: I Bet On Losing Dogs (Soldier Boy x fem!self insert)
cant take my eyes off you
summary: a girl gets assigned to help tutor sam, only he ends up paying attention to her instead of the work
pairing: fem!self ship x sam riordan
warnings: none! just pure fluff and pining lmao. i dont give my girl a name, i only just she and her
notes: hii so welcome to my jam filled brain (their ship name) im writing this for reggies cousins gc but feel free to enjoy as well!! bring back self shipping 2026!!! ill probably be doing multiple imagines about my babies i love them sooo dearly <3 i made a playlist for them which you can check out here, and i also made a pinterest board for them which you can also check out here ! i hope you all enjoy <3 (this is my second time writing this cause my draft fucked uppp earlier rip)
likes/reblogs/comments appreciated!! ꨄ︎
♡
She was always aware of the boy called Sam Riordan. One night, his brother, Luke, had told her all about him and their family. She was sure that he hadn't told her everything he knew but she wasn't going to push it. After Luke died, it shocked the whole campus. She wasn't as close to him as their other friends were, but after the conversation they had together, she still spent her nights awake regretting that they hadn't gotten closer. This is why she was on her way to the library to help the boy she once swore she would protect. For Luke, she said.
She walked through the big wooden doors and looked around the room. It was full with students either sat at tables or wandering down the isles where the books were displayed. She headed towards an empty table near the corner of the room which is where she would hope nobody would distract them. She was a smart student. Definitely not the smartest, but she had some common sense. She could easily tutor someone like Sam who probably didn't know much and needed to learn about the world.
"Hey"
This voice made her practically jump out of her seat, yelping. She held her hand on her chest and looked around as multiple students were staring at her. She looked up at the voice and sighed.
"Jesus... you... you scared the shit out of me!" She yelled.
He pulled out the chair next to her, sitting down shrugging.
Her heart rate started to slow down after a minute and she rested her hands on the table. "Sorry... I.. I didn't mean to yell. You just scared me"
Sam furrowed his eyebrows at her. "Why are you apologising? You haven't done anything bad." He reassured.
She smiled softly at him, the pair looking into each others eyes.
"Um... ahem, okay.." She quickly coughed out of the trance. "So.. I need to teach you stuff, I guess?" She reached into her bag to pull out a laptop and books, and a pen for him to use. She handed him a notebook and he scribbled out "Sam R" on the front of it. She noticed how he kept tracing out the letters to make it seem neater, however it only made it worse.
"Okay, Sam, do you know anything about Shakespeare?" She asked him. He was currently doodling all over his hands and arms, not paying attention.
"Uhh.. who?" He replied, confused.
"Shakespeare? The poet? Like.. world famous..."
Sam shrugged.
She nodded. "Okay, that's fine.. we've got a lot to do... its fine.. totally fine." She sighed, reaching for the book on the table. "You don't know Romeo & Juliet?"
Sam shook his head.
She stared at him in disbelief and she put her head in her hands, sighing again.
"Look Sam, I know you don't wanna be here, but I need this. So please just do this for me. Even if nothing goes in, I just want you to listen." She mumbled to him.
This made Sam look up slowly. His eyes softened and he put the pen down.
"Thank you" She smiled at him.
Over the next hour, she was teaching Sam all about Shakespeare and his work, specifically Romeo & Juliet. She was explaining how if she was ever in that situation she would probably kill herself, before realising that's literally the plot of the story and now she's realising how she has been waffling about this story for over an hour now.
"Sorry.. I talk way too much" She slumped in her seat awkwardly.
However, Sam didn't notice. He wasn't paying attention to anything she was saying. He was too busy studying her. Watching her face light up at the mention of this book was so important to him. The way she her cheeks turned a shade of pink every time she smiled was interesting, he had never seen this before, and he sure as hell didn't want it to be the last time he ever saw her smile like that.
"No... it's good. Carry on."
She blushed out of awkwardness, before looking up at the clock. Her eyes widened when she realised the time and how long she had actually been rambling for.
"Shit... I... I have to go to class, it's almost 3" She quickly packed away all her things. "Uh.. you can keep that, to make notes or whatever" She patted the notebook in front of Sam. "Oh, and the pen too. It's my favourite pen, so please look after it."
Sam nodded slightly, putting the pen delicately in his pocket. She stood up and was about to leave, before she saw Sam still sat down. "Are you.. just gonna stay there?"
He said nothing, only watching her. Taking all her features in. He needed to know more about the person that he thought was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.
She nodded, before saying bye and walking away. She kept looking back at him, to see him still staring at her. As she walked away, she thought about Sam. He was the most emotionless person she had ever met, however she could see he was full of emotions. She knew that he wasn't really listening. Of course she knew that. But she could tell that he cared. He cared that he wanted to make her happy, which is why he wasn't at least purposefully pretending to not care. He really was the most interesting person she had ever met.
“Soldier Boy” (pt1 of Everything About You)
Pairings: Soldier Boy x fem!self insert
Warnings: It’s Soldier Boy, he is a warning on his own. Crude language, sexism, absolutely inappropriate, sexual, and disrespectful.
Plot: First in the series, Soldier Boy meets his new personal assistant (part of a self insert universe with me and my friends 🙂↕️ shout out to Reggie’s cousins).
Word Count: 893 (I know, I’m really lacking for my comeback in writing)
Nobody tells you that a bachelor's degree in psychology gets you nowhere. Nobody. It’s a step before your masters or doctorate in something clinical or pharmaceutical or in research. But a bachelor’s degree in psychology gets you nowhere. Especially in this job market.
So what happens when a 24 year old girl decides she’s sick of working minimum wage jobs with her degree where she’s verbally abused? She gets a job that makes a little bit above minimum wage with her degree where she’s verbally abused, at Vought, as Soldier Boy’s personal assistant. Why would her degree matter? Because you need to understand psychology and how to use it to put up with him.
Her first day on the job, she was nervous, and excited, but most of all looking to finally afford something other than macaroni and cheese from the dollar store. Finally her options opened up to frozen pizza, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with sourdough instead of plain white bread. The scariest part of this job was that Homelander wanted to be the one to introduce her to Soldier Boy. And boy did she not like Homelander. Of course she wouldn’t, he’s everything she stood against. Little did she know, so was Soldier Boy. He had just woken up, quite some time had passed, and here was this brown doe-eyed 24 year old girl staring up at him.
“This is Ashley,” Homelander had introduced her to Soldier Boy.
“Ashley? How many fucking Ashley’s work here? Why the fuck is there another Ashley?” Soldier Boy asked, but while the questions were directed at Homelander, his eyes remained on her.
“I don’t know, why did my mom name me after an Olsen twin?” she asked back. He stopped for a moment and looked at her. For a 5’6 girl with wide doe-eyes, he wasn’t expecting that. Fear, admiration, maybe. But a bit of attitude?
“What the fuck is an Olsen twin?” he finally asked.
“Like Mary Kate and Ashley- holy shit, the Russians got you before you could experience Full House!” she realized. He still looked at her as if he was waiting for an explanation. “It was a popular show in the late 80’s and early 90’s.”
Soldier Boy once again stopped, and this time looked at Homelander. “You hired her for me? This kid? She looks dumber than she sounds.”
“I’m not dumb, I got my psychology degree! Graduated a whole year early too.” She crossed her arms.
“And where did that get you, sweetheart?” He looked her up and down. “Taking orders from me.” He turned to Homelander again and said, “Leave us alone, I want to interview her myself.”
Homelander’s eyes widened a bit, looked between them, cleared his throat, and nodded, before exiting. Soldier Boy walked around her, checking her out completely.
“So, what is a girl like you doing here working for a guy like me?”
“Uh making $23 an hour I guess?” she answered, arms still crossed, though more slouched than before. “Do I have to keep calling you Soldier Boy or “sir” or are you going to tell me your name?”
“What makes you think you can talk to me like that? You enjoy being a pain in the ass?” His boots clacked on the floor as he stepped up to her face, his breath like a ghost brushing her cheek.
“You want to see a pain in the ass? I got a sparkly twelve inch dildo in my trunk.” She got on her toes, narrowing the space between them to less than an inch.
Soldier Boy’s breath stopped, his eyebrows raised, and he just kept looking her in the eyes. His features melted, just a fraction, before his lips tugged up into a smile and he chuckled lowly. “You got a mouth on you, I’ll give you that. I’m Ben. But you’ll be calling me sir, you hear that?”
“I hear you, sir,” she answered through gritted teeth.
He looked her up and down once more, but this time at her outfit. She was wearing high waisted shorts, but office appropriate shorts. They were a dull brown pair that reached to her knees. Similar to dress pants but shorts. And on the top she had a striped button down halter top. Like a normal button down but sleeveless. The shirt was black with white and brown stripes. And her blazer, it was cropped, short sleeve, with a round almost poofy sleeve. All office appropriate and professional, but still casual and cute and age appropriate enough.
“So they’re letting girls wear shorts to the office now.” It wasn’t a question, it was an observation from Soldier Boy. “What next, men in dresses?”
She narrowed her eyes, and bit her tongue. The decision to work at Vought was a last resort, sure, but she wasn’t suicidal. And sassing Soldier Boy when Homelander can definitely hear her despite not being in the room, is a wish for a death sentence by laser eyes.
“Nothing to say?” He raised his eyebrow.
“No sir.” She managed to push out. “Is there anything I can help you with today?” Redirection. Ended the conversation before she could get more pissed off and instead focused on something more tolerable.
“Get me weed. Indica, none of that sativa bullshit.”
“Yes sir.” She turned on her heels and stomped away.
reggies cousins gc mention!!!
human nature
summary: sam hates seeing his favourite girl upset so he consoles her :(((((
pairings: sam riordan x fem!oc
warnings: nonee! fluffy sam my beloved <3
notes: i love my cutie pies so much:’)) these imagines are really short sorry im such a slow writer so it would probably take days to write a normal sized one LOL
michael jackson - human nature 🎶
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A loud thud filled the room startling the girl. She lifted her head from her pillow to see her best friend had fallen into her dorm room from the window. He quickly jumped up, brushing dirt off his clothes. Sam looked at her, grinning, before realising you weren’t smiling back at him. His face fell, before rushing over to her.
“Hey, are you okay?” Sam knelt by the side of her bed, studying her expression. He noticed that your eyes were red and puffy — no doubt from crying for hours. “Why didn’t you call me? What’s going on?” Sam’s hand brushed through her hair, his eyes softening. He hated seeing her like this, he needed to make her feel better desperately.
She shrugged, making his heart break.
“Come on, let’s go on a walk.” Sam muttered to her, his hand still on her hair. She groaned, making him chuckle. “Come onnn, it’s quiet outside. Nobody around.” He shook her slightly. When she didn’t reply he rested his chin on the bed before looking around for ideas. He spotted her skateboard in the corner of the room, grinning.
“I’ll let you teach me how to skate if you get up.” At these words, she opened one eye. Sam smiled. “There she isss, come on, let’s go!” He bounced up, jumping to grab her board.
She got out of bed groggily, rubbing her eyes as she did so.
“You’re lucky my roommate isn’t here, she’d probably have killed you by now” She mumbled to him. Sam laughed. “Yeah.. she scares me” She snorted at him, making him smile. He had missed that laugh immensely.
The pair walked out of the dorm room and Sam almost instantly wrapped an arm around her shoulder, making her instinctively lean into him. They walked out of the building towards the lightly lit quad, the only sounds around them being the quiet hum of the lightbulbs flickering and the occasional cricket.
Sam had walked her over to a bench and sat her down. He placed her skateboard on the floor, his feet attaching to it as he sat down.
"Its nice, isn't it?" Sam exclaimed, looking up at the stars in the sky. She mimicked his behaviour, looking up. She nodded, smiling.
Sam turned his gaze away from the sky, now looking at her. He loved the way the moon made her eyes glisten, it really was the most beautiful thing about her. He constantly compared her to the moon in his mind, her beauty was something like he had never seen before. He moved his gaze down from her eyes to her lips. Oh how he badly wanted to kiss them. There was an almost sort of enchanting softness that really invited him towards them, he really wanted to make them his.
"You're staring" She murmured, her eyes not leaving the stars in the sky. "You like to watch me, don't you?" She turned her head towards him, tilting her head slightly.
Sam blushed, looking away instantly. "Sorry"
"I like it" She mumbled, making Sam look straight back towards her. "Why? He asked, curious.
She only smiled, standing up. "Come on, you said I can teach you to skate".
Sam smirked. "Help me balance then" He reached his arms out for her to hold. She took his hands as he slowly stood up onto the board, his body struggling slightly. She laughed as he wobbled, almost falling over.
"Your balance is so bad" She laughed, making Sam shake his head. "Its not easy! I don't know how you do this without holding onto something, it's impossible!" He sulked.
"Look just..." She hesitated before grabbing his hands and placing them down on her waist. "Just, hold on.. it's easy." Sam's eyes had instantly widened and his body became almost as stiff as the skateboard he was on. This was a situation he NEVER thought he'd be in, but it sure as hell is happening right now and all he needs to do is not panic and lose his balance and-
*thud*
Sam lost his balance. And where had he ended up? That's right. On top of her. His face inches away from hers. This is quite possibly the most cliché, cheesy thing of all time. Not that he had watched many romcoms, all he watched was Star Wars. He did not like Star Wars, he was all about Star Trek, but she loved it. And anything she liked, he instantly liked as well. Anything to keep his favourite girl happy.
"You're staring again" She mumbled, breaking him out his trance. Sam smiled. "I know" His eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips. "I love how expressive your lips are, it really adds to your smile." Her face turned a bright shade of red, her gaze now flickering to his lips.
"Can I kiss you? Please?" He murmured, almost begging. His hand reached to move a loose hair out of her face, just an excuse to admire her beauty even more.
She nodded, and with no hesitation, Sam leant his head down and pressed his lips onto hers. He could NOT believe this was his situation right now. He was kissing his best friend? His best friend that he is in love with? How is he even doing this?
She pulled away slowly, her hands reaching to stroke his face.
"W-was that okay?" Sam stuttered. He really didn't want to mess this up.
She smiled, nodding.
"It was everything I could've wanted, Sam"
@blast108 on twitter created this and I thought I'd spread awareness of it to here! They also have a twitter account for this specific event and it's @JackieNatWeek so check out more on there. I'm going to attempt to participate in this fic wise on days 1, 2, 5, 6, and 7 but we'll see what writer's block has to say ;/
So I think anyone can join and do whatever; fics, fanart, edits, etc. For these prompts. Can't wait to see what everyone else does. I am so excited honestly.
(I will also try to get back to my JackieLot fic and write more of it.)
hdwgh?iutkysw | chapter two
summary: A (not so) normal day school for Lottie and Jackie ending with practice. Also, a peak into protective Lottie mode.
warnings: 18+, some making out, cussing, mention of blood and death, I think that's it.
word count: 3,550
a/n: Going to see The Warning movie with my brother today! Hope you all enjoy this second chapter. Feel free to leave a comment or reblog!
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Jackie tastes like cherry chapstick when they kiss both times, at ages 13 and 15. The first time they’re laying down so that they’re the same height. Lottie’s bangs keep getting in her eyes though, and Jackie’s braces get caught on her lips, causing them to bleed. It’s awkward and Jackie apologizes profusely for it. The girl was on the verge of tears feeling awful about the blood and worrying that Lottie would no longer want to be her friend anymore. But then, in a bout of hysteria, Lottie had wiped the blood off of her lip with her thumb and smeared it on the corner of Jackie’s mouth.